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Chapter Text

Pyrrha panted heavily through her grin, chest rising and falling as she sucked down great, greedy gulps of air. Her arms were stretched into the air, wings spread wide behind her, with one foot planted ahead of the other as she held her final pose. In the stands, the crowd roared their applause, whilst the other performers of the troupe filled the ring, each holding their own dramatic stance.

After judging enough time had passed, she relaxed her pose, keeping her grin broad as she waved to the crowd, blowing a few appreciative kisses. ‘Work the crowd’, the voice of her mentor reminded her. ‘Most important part of this kind of performance is working the crowd.’

Eventually, the performers assembled themselves into a single line, lining hands and interlacing fingers. Pyrrha somehow managed to find herself between Titan the Strongman and Canary the Sword Swallower in the line. In unison, the troupe raised their arms, and bowed as one. Whilst Titan was close enough to her own height to avoid presenting a problem, she was almost two feet taller than Canary, and so she had to avoid raising her arm too high.

The troupe repeated the bows twice again, before the line broke, and the performers began retreating backstage. Some, mostly those in the heaviest outfits and heaviest makeup, made a swift departure, whilst others lingered in the ring for a few more moments, drawing out the praise and applause a little while longer.

Pyrrha was somewhere in the middle of the pack, her incredible stature and independent fame meaning she couldn’t be seen to be too eager to depart. Even if she desperately wanted to be out of the public eye as quickly as possible. 

Mercifully, she finally escaped the ring, and made her way to her makeup station. Her wings sagged against her back as she went, arms dropping loosely by her sides. She sat down on the stool, and lifted her eyes to the mirror.

A painted face greeted her, split evenly between gold on the left and white on the right. The solid colour was broken up by a gold diamond over her right eye, with a red one over the other. Her lips were coloured a vivid red, bordered in gold with slight upward wings at the corners of her mouth.

Those corners were turned down, in defiance of her makeup. Her eyes were half-lidded and exhausted, staring blankly back at her from the mirror. She glanced over at the photograph pinned to the upper corner, showing a version of her from two years ago. The makeup was the same, and a dazzling grin beamed out at her.

That smile was gone now. She’d been smiling for hours, all for the benefit of the crowd, but mustering now it felt impossible. A bitter sort of melancholy swelled in her chest as she stared at the photograph. Even when it had been taken, the pure joy of what she did was starting to bleed away.

With two tournament wins under her belt and a few seasons performing with the troupe, her name had become well-known. With it came the media attention, and it only got worse from there with the next two wins. Adoring fans, journalists jockeying for interviews. Brand deals, sponsorships, an increasingly-critical eye on her, her race, and her medical history…

Tearing her eyes away from the mirror, she turned her gaze to the already-opened envelope resting on the station’s surface. The off-white paper was debossed with an emblem of an anchor crossed horizontally by a sword, a compass rose completing the impression of a sextant. A red wax seal with a matching symbol had held the envelope closed, until Pyrrha had opened it with one of her knives.

After staring at the envelope for a moment, she reached out to take it, fishing out the letter from within, unfolding it to read it once again. It was handwritten, a fact that had taken Pyrrha by surprise the first time she saw it, the letters formed by an elegant, precise hand. The words were evenly spaced, and the lines were straight as an arrow.

Dear Pyrrha Nikos,

It is with great pleasure that I am able to confirm your acceptance to the hunter program at Providence Academy. Your academic and combat records, both at Sanctum Academy and in your extracurricular activities, have convinced myself and the faculty of your merit, and we are eager to facilitate the next step of your education.

If you accept this offer, please complete the enclosed forms and post them to Providence Academy before the 1st of May. Upon receiving your acceptance and the aforementioned forms, further communication will be sent with the details of your medical assessment.

We hope to hear from you soon, and look forward to welcoming you to the academy.

Yours sincerely,

Captain Eureka Caspian, Headmaster, Providence Academy.

At the end of the letter was the headmaster’s signature, elaborate and looping. The faint beginnings of a smile began to tug gently at the corner of her mouth as she read and then re-read the acceptance letter again.

“So Titan told me you got into Providence?” Pyrrha glanced up at the chipper voice, turning to look at its source. Canary was perched on the makeup stand beside hers, the short, tanned woman grinning broadly at her. Amber eyes twinkled mirthfully at her, framed by her shoulder-length yellow hair.

“I did, yes,” Pyrrha answered her, managing a smile for her fellow performer.

“Hell yeah, good going girl,” Canary said, leaning over to punch her lightly on the shoulder. “Guessing you haven’t spread that around a lot yet, since the media hasn’t gone fucking crazy?” she asked.

“I don’t plan on spreading that news around,” Pyrrha informed her. “Though, I don’t imagine it will take long for someone at Haven Academy to let slip that I didn’t apply there.”

“Didn’t apply to Haven at all, even as a backup option?” Canary inquired, tilting her head.

Pyrrha shook her head. “I applied to Providence and Beacon. Both accepted me, but…”

“But you took Providence’s offer,” Canary finished for her. Pyrrha nodded. “I don’t get it,” she said simply. “You hate the media circus, and you’re doing something you know will piss them off,” she pointed out.

“I know,” Pyrrha replied. “That’s… Part of why I did it, actually,” she admitted, glancing away from her. “You know I’ve never liked how they talk about me in the tournaments.”

“Yeah, that whole ‘Jester of Mistral’ stuff is bullshit,” Canary agreed. “Fuck that, you’re Argosi, not Mistrali.” 

Pyrrha nodded once again. “Correct. I suppose I wanted to remind everyone of that. That, and… I love Argoz. I’m not sure I want to leave it behind.”

“Pretty sure Argoz loves you too,” Canary joked, smirking. “Even if you are a bit sick of the ‘Arlecchina’ stuff.”

“It’s better than the ‘Jester’ one at least,” Pyrrha granted. I wish they’d just call me by my name, though, she thought, not daring to give voice to the words.

“Well, even if you’re gonna be staying in the city, I’m gonna miss performing with you,” Canary said, her smirk turning to a small smile.

“Likewise. Hopefully I’ll be able to come back between years,” Pyrrha said.

“I’m holding you to that, Nikos.”

In the stands, Weiss was entranced.

She watched, wide-eyed, as the performers arrived at the explosive finale of the show. Acrobats tumbled and dancers pirouetted, whilst above it all, a dizzying height above the stage, the object of Weiss’ fixation dangled from a trapeze. Pyrrha Nikos hung inverted, gently swaying back and forth, a single leg hooked over the bar preventing her from falling.

There was a collective gasp from the audience as Pyrrha suddenly straightened that leg, and began to fall. Her wings remained furled against her back, rotating slowly as she fell. The crowd watched with bated breath, Weiss’ heart hammering as she got closer and closer to the stage, passing the point where her wings could save her.

Suddenly, Pyrrha’s arms snapped out, hands catching and clasping the bar of another trapeze. Her momentum swung her once, twice, three times around the bar before she released it, sent into the air once again. She tucked into a rapid somersault, before straightening out again as she landed, one leg ahead of the other and both arms stretched above her head.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, the troupe on the stage below receiving a standing ovation. Weiss joined them, if only so she could continue to see over the heads of those in the rows in front of her, a wide smile on her face, her own wings fluttering against her back. She spared glances for the other performers, but her gaze always returned to the staggeringly tall harlequin in the midst of them all.

As the performers took their bows and the noise of the audience died down again, Weiss sat back in her seat, buzzing with excitement still. Her hands were clasped together, pinned between her knees, gently bobbing her head and shoulders from side to side, wings twitching and shifting constantly.

“Oh, finally,” a voice drawled from her left, puncturing her good mood. “The plebeian entertainment is over,” it continued. Weiss leant forwards to shoot a glare past her mother at Whitley, who was boredly looking at his scroll. 

“Perhaps you’d have enjoyed the show more if you actually paid attention to it instead of your scroll,” Weiss sniped at him, scowling. The core of anger in her chest that had been dormant during the show was starting to flare up again. Whitley rolled his eyes, pocketing his scroll.

“Oh please. A few scantily-clad performers tumbling around on-stage like they’re having a psychotic episode,” he said dismissively. “I can see why you might have enjoyed it, though,” he continued, his previously lethargic gaze turning sharp, a mocking bite to his tone. “You seemed quite taken with those scantily-clad performers.”

Weiss had to hold back a snarl, settling instead for a sneer, indignation flashing through her. The words gathered on her tongue, harsh and scathing, practically burning with the need to unleash them on her brother.

“Whitley, don’t tease Weiss.” Her tirade was interrupted before it could even begin by the soft but firm words of Willow. Even two years later, it still managed to surprise her whenever Willow stepped in to stop her and Whitley from sniping away at each other.

Rather than reply, Whitley just huffed and rolled his eyes, looking away from both of them. Willow looked at him for a moment, lips pursed as she tried to think of something to say. Words, however, failed her. “Did you enjoy the show, Weiss?” she instead asked, looking at her daughter.

“I did,” Weiss confirmed with a nod, managing a small smile. Willow returned it, beaming happily at her.

“That’s good! Let’s hurry along, now,” she said, rising to her feet and collecting her handbag. “We have reservations for dinner, remember?”

Weiss blinked, before frowning. Reservations… She glanced down at the stage, now absent of performers. The posters had said they’d be doing a meet and greet shortly after the show had finished. It would be a chance to actually say hello to the performers, perhaps one in particular…

“Weiss, honey?” Willow’s words pulled Weiss from her thoughts, looking back up at her mother. “We don’t want to be late.”

Swallowing her disappointment, Weiss nodded mutely, wings slack behind her as she quietly followed behind Willow.

Ilia breathed in deeply through her nose, eyes closed as she smelt the salt on the air. Slowly, she released that breath through her mouth, opening her eyes again.

She was sitting in the upper reaches of a passenger ship bound for Argus from the east coast of Vale, the city itself glittering against the shore. As she looked across the water, she mentally began comparing what she could see with what she knew of the city.

The two most obvious landmarks were the island simply known as ‘La Rocca’, and the enormous CCT tower and lighthouse of Providence Academy that loomed over the rest of the city. La Rocca itself formed a barrier between the open sea and the lagoon the city of Argus sprawled across. The seaward side of the island bristled with fortifications, presenting a formidable amount of firepower against any grimm intent on attacking from the sea.

Glancing to her left and right, Ilia spotted the two inlets either side of La Rocca that permitted entrance to the lagoon. Both inlets boasted their own bastions, including a pair of towers with an old harbour chain slung between them for each waterway. Ilia wasn’t sure if they were still functional this many decades after Argus last had cause to use them.

As the ship angled for the southern inlet, Ilia reflected on the events that had brought her here. After Weiss had been revealed to the world and Jacques had been arrested, many in the White Fang had celebrated. Sure, the fight hadn’t been over, but with the SDC out of his hands and in the much more sympathetic hands of Willow, there had been a sense of joy and triumph.

Except, of course, for Adam. He’d been incensed, ranting about how it should have been faunus, and the White Fang specifically, that brought Jacques down. How he should have been dragged through the streets and hanged from a lamppost, along with the rest of the SDC. Whether he meant just the executives, or literally every single employee of the company, Ilia still wasn’t sure.

Adam’s mood hadn’t improved since then, and eventually it shook Blake enough for her to confide in Ilia. Ilia let her eyes close again as she reminisced. Blake shared her fears, how they’d been struggling with their identity, how Adam had been steering that. Ilia had responded with her own growing worries, a shared moment of vulnerability and, somehow inevitably, a moment of intimacy.

Half-hooded amber eyes staring down at her flashed through Ilia’s mind, and her eyes snapped open again. They’d shared each other’s company twice again after that, before Blake left. It had been stupid. Desperate. Dangerous. That hadn’t stopped them, despite their fears of being caught.

That fear had been a contributing factor to Ilia’s own decision to run. When Adam returned to the camp without Blake, Ilia’s world had come to a brief, crashing halt. And then Adam’s mood turned apocalyptic, ranting and raving for all to hear about how Blake had abandoned the cause. That she’d abandoned the mission and, more importantly to him at least, abandoned him. Promising vengeance for her betrayal.

Ilia’s faith in Adam’s cause had been shaken already, but that display had shattered it, like a brick through a pane of glass. That glimpse into his true nature, along with her fears over her times with Blake being discovered, had driven her to flee. She took supplies, dust, and lien before running the width of Sanus. She’d hitchhiked, trainhopped, and often simply walked. And now, here she was, a stowaway on a ship approaching Argus.

She’d had a lot of time to consider her options. Going back to Atlas wasn’t going to happen. Staying in Vale would be too risky. She’d thought about Kuo Kuana, but the only people she knew there not connected to the Fang were the Belladonnas. And the thought of showing up at their door after everything that had happened…

She grimaced, shaking her head. That left the kingdom of Mistral. One of Remnant’s most racist nations wasn’t an attractive option in Ilia’s mind, and there was the presence of Sienna’s headquarters to factor in. But, what choice did Ilia have?

And then she’d considered Argus. An anomaly within Mistral. An accepting, tolerant, welcoming city, still clinging to its identity even after its subjugation by Mistral during and following the Great War. And, as of four years ago, the host of a hunter academy of its own.

Ilia knew how to fight. She was very good at it, in fact. She was most practised against human opponents, but there’d been enough bad feelings in the White Fang to make grimm a recurring problem. As such, she knew how to fight grimm as well. And Headmaster Caspian was rumoured to have been cut from the same sort of cloth as Beacon’s Ozpin, a giver of second-chances for prospective students willing to put in the work.

The fact the headmaster was a faunus also helped.

Sneaking about a ship for Argus and throwing herself to the mercy of Providence Academy certainly wasn’t what Ilia had envisioned when she’d joined the Fang as an angry, grief-stricken orphan. But Remnant had never been especially generous in extending opportunities to sad little faunus girls. All she could do was seize the chances that drifted close to her.

Only time would tell if Ilia had overreached or not.

Chapter Text

Weiss peered out the observation window of the airship as it made its final approach to the city of Argus. The city sprawled out below her, spread across the shores of the lagoon as well as six of the seven major islands within it, as well as most of the smaller islands. The last of the larger islands was left almost entirely undeveloped, serving as a city park, whilst the others were almost completely covered in buildings and criss-crossed with the canals the city was famous for.

The waters of the lagoon itself glittered in the bright morning sun. Boats and the odd ship cut their way from island to island or the mainland, some heading out to the open sea. From her vantage point, she was able to pick out a few of the city’s landmarks. Providence Lighthouse, the Grand Vizier’s Palace, Siasla Bridge, along with many, many others.

“Miss Schnee?” the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re on final approach to the Arsenal now,” he informed Weiss. Weiss didn’t respond, simply nodding to herself as she let her eyes continue to roam over the city below her. Her hands were clasped in front of her at her waist, fingers tightening and then relaxing seemingly at random.

As the private SDC airship banked around, Weiss was given her first look at their intended landing site, and she recalled her lessons regarding Argus’ history. The Argus Arsenal, ‘Arsenale di Argoz’ to the locals, remained the city’s primary shipyard even after Mistral’s conquest over the former republic. A roughly square body of water, enclosed on all sides by walls, drydocks, and other ship-building industry, two main inlets and a number of smaller canals granted access to Argus’ wide waterways.

Their destination was not the interior of the Arsenal itself, but instead the series of docks built by the lagoon-facing side. Originally built for the city’s coast guard, they’d been expanded to account for the proximity of the new academy. Other ships were already present there, a mixture of Mistrali, Atlesian, Valean, and Vacuan, promising a diverse body of students for the new year.

After loitering for a minute or so, the airship was given permission to land at one of the elevated airship docks. Weiss finally tore herself away from the window, collecting one of her suitcases, humming softly to herself as she made her way to the door. After a few moments of roaring, the engines finally fell quiet, the ship coming to rest before the doors opened.

Squinting her eyes briefly against the bright sunshine, Weiss stepped out of the airship and down the ramp. The smell of salt was strong in the air, and a good number of students were milling around on the docks ahead of her. As Weiss took in the scene, she noticed one such student was making his way toward her.

He wore a white, loose-collared jacket, unbuttoned and with no shirt on under that, exposing a muscular torso. Red vambraces and black fingerless gloves covered his forearms, and he wore blue trousers with a chain and a studded belt, black and yellow shoes completing his outfit. His hair was blond and spikey, with bright blue eyes fixed squarely on Weiss, and a blond-furred monkey tail waving behind him.

“Hey!” he called out to her as he approached, grinning broadly. “Fancy ship,” he commented, glancing past her at the SDC-marked airship and the porters currently unloading her luggage from the hold. “I’m Sun.”

Weiss blinked as she processed his words, taken aback slightly by his bold approach. “Hello.” She was a little annoyed that he’d thrown off her planned sequence of events upon arriving at Providence. But he wasn’t being rude, so she couldn’t just leave the conversation. “Weiss Schnee,” she introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you!” he said, before extending a loose fist down towards her. Weiss looked at it, and then at him again, before she awkwardly reached out her own hand, grasping his and shaking it. It was Sun’s turn to look puzzled as he stared at her hand. “No no, like this,” he said, reaching out with his other hand and taking Weiss’.

Weiss stiffened up at the contact, but didn’t make a move to pull back as Sun gently curled her hand into a fist, before releasing her. “It’s a fist bump, not a handshake,” he explained, before lightly bumping his fist into hers.

“... Oh,” Weiss said, blushing slightly at her apparent faux-pas, before she cleared her throat, lowering her arm back to her side.

“So, you starting at Providence as well?” he asked, glancing behind him at the looming shape of Providence Tower before looking back at her.

“I am, yes,” she answered, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“That’s great!” he cheered, grinning once more. “You should stick with me, then,” he continued, before glancing around mock-conspiratorially. “I know the headmaster. And, you know, us faunus got to stick together,” he added, his tail flicking into view again.

“Is that so?” Weiss asked, her eyebrow arching even more. This feels familiar, she remarked internally. 

“Uh-huh,” he said with a nod. “She’s my aunt.” Weiss nodded, considering that information.

An offer of allegiance, she reasoned. He has local connections and is willing to let me make use of them, presumably in exchange for access to my own resources and connections. Complete with an appeal to common ground. 

On the one hand, the idea that she hadn’t made it a single day outside of Atlas without the same sort of social games emerging was grating. She’d been coping with them non-stop for the past two years, and yet no end of them was in sight.

On the other hand… There was a certain guilelessness to him that allayed his apparent offer. That, and it was rarely a good idea to make enemies right from the start, especially not ones related to the headmaster of the academy she was about to attend. Humour him, for now at least, she decided. You’re not making use of his connections yet, so no repayment is expected.

“Your aunt?” she repeated, receiving another nod. 

“Uh huh! I can show you around if you need?” he offered. 

Weiss mused over his offer for a moment. It would interrupt my schedule even more, she thought. The schedule itself was absolutely inconsequential. It didn’t really matter if it was disrupted by a guided tour of the academy. But it would still bother her.

 “I should get my luggage stored away properly before I do anything else,” she said, glancing at the trolleys loaded with her belongings and the porters hovering next to them. It was the perfect excuse to leave the conversation without leaving any hurt feelings or snubbed noses in her wake. Now he’ll back out graciously, and any commitments to an alliance will be postponed to another day.

“Oh, sure, yeah. I can point out stuff on the way then!” Sun said happily.

Or… He can do that. “Very well,” she relented. At least he’s trying to be helpful, she thought, trying to make herself feel better about the disruption.

“Awesome. So, that right there’s the Arsenal…”

Pyrrha glanced around the interior of the Providence auditorium, waiting like the rest of the students for the headmaster to appear. The room was part of the old Argus naval academy, one of many buildings that Providence Academy had absorbed into its campus. It reflected its history well, a well-appointed space with tall, arched windows lining the walls. Framed portraits, paintings of ships, and a number of other decorations filled the space between these windows.

The floor was polished marble, patterns inlaid in different shades and types of stone, a broad marble staircase opposite the entrance to the building. The stairs led up to a balcony and a wood panelled set of double doors. A microphone stand was set up facing these doors, and as such Pyrrha assumed that would be where the headmaster would be speaking from.

The ceiling was high and vaulted, decorated with carvings and checkerboard patterns. Part of Pyrrha wanted to simply fly up to one of the alcoves amidst the ceiling braces to get away from the whispers and looks being directed at her by the other students. She remained rooted in place, however, doing her best to ignore the attention.

Instead, she turned her attention to the parts of the crowd a bit further away from her. One particular group caught her eye immediately. Two shorter women were excitedly chattering away, whilst a man and a woman watched shoulder-to-shoulder with long-suffering expressions. 

Both of the energetic women had fair skin, the apparently-human of the pair having orange hair and turquoise-coloured eyes, whilst the faunus woman had pink hair, green eyes, and a cat’s tail waving behind her. The third woman had a much darker complexion, with green hair and red eyes, whilst the fourth member of the group had fair skin, black hair, and pink eyes.

The conversations swirling around the room came to a halt as the double doors on the balcony swung open. The sound of clipped footsteps preceded the arrival of the headmaster, soon appearing through the doors and stopping at the top of the staircase by the microphone stand.

Pyrrha’s attention was immediately drawn to her uniform. She wore a high-collared white dress shirt, over which went a black military-cut tailcoat with a white interior and a row of brass buttons running down each breast. Gold embroidery further decorated the coat, following the line of buttons and lining the ends of the flared sleeves.

White, close-fitted dress trousers clad her legs, with black high-heeled boots reaching as high as her knees. A bicorn hat sat atop her head, matching her coat in colour and oriented so one point projected ahead of her. A peacock feather was pinned to one side by a brass roundel, the design on which Pyrrha couldn’t quite pick out at this distance. 

The woman herself had tanned skin, long brown hair worn in a ponytail, and steel-grey eyes with a fierce-looking slit pupil, an obvious tell of her faunus heritage. A long scar marked one side of her race, running from her chin to her right cheekbone, with a smaller v-shaped scar at her right brow.

An embroidered belt rounded out her uniform, complete with a decidedly-functional looking sword in a slightly battered scabbard. A curiously modest number of medals were pinned to her coat. Part of Pyrrha had assumed someone of her position and reputation would have had more. Maybe it’s because she’s a faunus, Pyrrha mused.

Behind her followed a man in significantly more subdued dress. He wore a light grey two-piece suit with a white dress shirt and a black bowtie, with a white pork pie hat with a black ribbon on his head. The man appeared to be human, with fairer skin, light brown hair and bright green eyes.

Compared to the woman’s straight-backed military bearing, the man walked with a much more casual posture, almost slouching slightly with his hands in his pockets and a friendly smile across his face. As he fell into place by her right shoulder, the woman stepped up to the microphone, clearing her throat before standing at ease as she addressed the room.

“Good morning,” she began, her stern demeanour melting into a broad, confident smile, “and welcome to Providence.” She spoke quickly but clearly, each syllable firmly enunciated. “I’m Captain Eureka Caspian, headmaster of this fine academy. This,” she said, gesturing to the man standing next to her, “is Mister Keaton, the deputy headmaster.”

The now-named man gave them all a friendly wave before Captain Caspian continued. “I’m sure at this point Professor Ozpin would give a short, cryptic speech meant to unsettle the new arrivals at Beacon, and Professor Lionheart would talk about the history of Haven Academy.

“I will do neither of these things. I value a lack of ambiguity, and as you should all be aware, Providence has no long history to draw upon.” She paused, looking out at the sea of fresh faces. “However, this school sits at the heart of a city with centuries of culture and tradition. And it falls to you to carry that torch onwards, safeguarding Argoz and civilisation at large.

“We have had one single graduating class to date. You will be responsible for forging whatever legacy this school leaves to future generations. This is not a duty to be taken lightly, and I expect the best possible effort from each and every one of you.”

Another pause, during which Caspian took the time to scan the crowd, gauging their reactions to her words. Some looked intimidated, others looked galvanised. A small number seemed bored, as with any speech. 

“The rest of the day will be spent getting you familiar with the campus, finalising any remaining paperwork, and other details like that. Tonight, you will sleep in the ballroom. Tomorrow morning, we will begin initiation. Before I hand you over to Mister Keaton, there is one final, critical matter to address.

“When you first applied to Providence, you were all asked if you could swim. If any of you would like to change your answer, today is your last opportunity to do so without reprisal. If, come initiation, you are found to have lied, I will not hesitate to send you home,” she warned them all sternly.

With her warning delivered, and a wave of murmurs going through the room, she glanced over at her colleague. “Mister Keaton? They’re all yours,” she said, stepping away from the microphone.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said, his voice soft, warm, and calm. “Hello everyone, my name is Professor Keaton, and I’ll be your deputy headmaster and pastoral head for your time here. I’ll be seeing many of you later today, but even if I don’t, I’d like you all to know my office is always open for a chat if you’re having difficulties of any sort here at Providence,” he explained with a happy smile.

“With that said, welcome to Providence. We hope you enjoy your time here.” With that, he stepped away from the microphone, and conversation slowly returned to the room. Over at once side of the space, Sun turned to look down at Weiss with a grin.

“Well, what do you think of my aunt?” he asked smugly.

“She’s very confident,” Weiss said. “Well-spoken as well. She dresses like a pre-Great War naval officer,” she pointed out, her question left unsaid.

“Yeah, it’s got something to do with Argus I think?” Sun hazarded. “Wanna go meet her?” he asked, already walking towards the stairs where Eureka and Keaton were talking quietly. Weiss watched him walk away from her for a moment before sighing and following after him. At the very least, meeting the headmaster face to face likely wouldn’t hurt.

“Hey auntie!” Sun called, waving as he got closer, beaming happily. Both teachers looked in Sun’s direction, a slightly bemused expression on Keaton’s face whilst Eureka’s could only be described as sharp.

Or, it could hurt, Weiss thought regretfully, realising she’d already been spotted following Sun as he approached the pair.

“Ah, Mister Wukong. I’ve heard so many things about you,” Captain Caspian said, an eyebrow rising pointedly. Sun finally seemed to register her less than enthusiastic reaction, his pace slowing and his smile taking an uncertain edge.

“Oh, uh. Good things, right?” he asked, nervously scratching his head. Leaning slightly to one side, Weiss was able to see the deer-in-headlights expression on his face. Eureka didn’t respond immediately, keeping her eyes locked on him for a long while and watching him slowly wilt.

“Mister Wukong,” she finally said. “Whilst you are a student at my academy, you will address me as ‘Captain Caspian’, ‘Headmaster’, or simply ‘ma’am’. Is that clear?” she asked expectantly.

“Wait, but, aunt—” Sun tried to protest.

“Is that clear, Mister Wukong?” Caspian repeated sternly.

“Yes ma’am,” Sun answered, gulping audibly and giving her an anxious grin. Eureka’s eyes narrowed slightly, before she nodded.

“That’ll do,” she said, before her eyes flicked to Weiss. “Miss Schnee,” she greeted her.

“Headmaster,” Weiss replied, inclining her head towards her respectfully. Eureka returned the nod, before turning back to Keaton and motioning towards the double doors, the pair departing a moment later. 

Once they had left, Weiss turned back to Sun. “So… The headmaster is your aunt,” she said flatly, raising her own eyebrow.

“Ahaha… I mean, yeah, sort of?” Sun said, scratching the back of his head again. Weiss’ eyebrow arched further.

“Sort of?” she echoed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she pressed.

“So, my dad's step-brother married her sister,” Sun explained. Weiss blinked at him twice, processing those words.

“... That’s not what— I’m not sure there’s a word for that,” she said.

“I mean, it makes her family,” Sun countered. “That counts for something, right?” he asked.

Weiss had to fight not to flinch at those words as they stabbed at her heart. She had no idea if any of how his words had affected her showed on her face, but she knew she’d been silent for too long. Sun had apparently registered something in her lack of a reaction, and his expression was now somewhere approaching concern.

“I have some things I need to attend to before tonight,” Weiss said flatly, keeping the emotion out of her voice. “Thank you for your assistance today, Sun,” she added, before turning on her heel and walking away. Sun blinked, watching after her with a worried frown.

“Uh, sure thing, Weiss,” he said lamely. Did I say something wrong? he thought.

“First impressions, Mister Keaton?” Eureka asked as the pair walked through the halls of Providence Academy, away from the auditorium.

“Hmm,” Keaton hummed thoughtfully. “It’ll be an interesting year, that’s for sure. Even without considering Vytal. Lots of potential in this group of students, I think.” Eureka nodded, mulling over his words.

“Any points of concern so far?” she questioned, wanting to get out ahead of any possible complications.

“Let’s see… A lot of these students are going to have a chip on their shoulder about something or another,” he began. “I noticed Miss Katt seems to have made fast friends with Miss Valkyrie.”

“Miss Katt… Faunus student from Mantle, correct?” Eureka asked.

“Specifically from the Crater,” Keaton confirmed.

“I see. Her making friends with Miss Valkyrie will likely lead to her also making friends with Mister Ren and Miss Sustrai. Depending on how the cards fall during initiation, they could be a formidable team,” she commented.

Keaton nodded slowly, humming. “They could. My main concern with those four is them potentially clashing with students from better-off backgrounds.”

“Friction is inevitable when you throw groups this large together for the first time,” Eureka said. Her tone wasn’t dismissive, but neither was it reassuring. “We can keep an eye on that for the time being.”

“Agreed. Continuing on, then. Miss Nikos’ presence at the academy is bound to draw attention,” he pointed out.

“Naturally. I can handle the politics and the media, that’s my job. Your job is making sure none of that celebrity worship follows her into the school itself. For her sake, if nothing else,” she added a moment later.

“Very well. My next point of concern would be Miss Amitola. The truth of her history getting out would be especially bad, and I foresee conflicts with our Atlesian students. Especially Miss Schnee, given the circumstances of Miss Amitola’s parents’ deaths.”

“We’ll need to monitor that situation very closely, then,” Eureka said grimly. “Especially if the press starts poking their noses in; we’ve got enough celebrity students this year to attract more attention than usual, and we’re hosting Vytal.

“Lots of possible stress points,” Keaton agreed. “And lastly, Miss Schnee herself. Given what we know about her life to this point, and what Jacques Schnee attempted to do…”

“You’re worried about her mental state?” Eureka guessed.

“Deeply.” Eureka nodded once it was clear Keaton wasn’t going to say more at this time.

“We’re spinning a lot of plates this year, Mister Keaton,” she commented.

“It’s going to be a real test of Providence in general,” he agreed. “The eyes of the world are going to be even more focussed on us.”

“Then we’ll just have to avoid disappointing them.”

Chapter Text

After Captain Caspian’s welcome speech and squaring away the few bits of paperwork she had left to do, Weiss spent some time simply wandering around Providence’s campus to get her bearings. As she wandered around, she was aware of the eyes on her. Ever since her existence had been revealed to the world, she had been watched constantly any time she wasn’t at the Schnee manor or inside another of the family’s properties. As usual, she did her best to ignore the curious looks being directed at her.

One pair of eyes, however, watched her with more than idle interest. Tailing her, using her years of experience and training to avoid notice, was Ilia Amitola. She followed Weiss, making sure to keep a good distance between the two of them as she observed her. 

If she was being entirely honest, she wasn’t entirely sure why she was spying on Weiss. Making sure the Schnee isn’t up to anything? As far as anyone had been able to tell, Weiss had been a victim of her father’s bigotry as well, making it unlikely she was ‘up to something’ that would concern Ilia.

Making sure she doesn’t figure out my history? Tailing and spying on her was a great way to make Weiss suspect something if she got caught. Meaning that continuing to do so was a really stupid idea if she wanted to keep her involvement with the White Fang a secret.

Because she’s really really really pretty— Ilia shut that thought down hard, even as her spots lit up pink. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to get the image of white wings and big blue eyes out of her mind. By the time she opened them again, Weiss had disappeared from view. Ilia sighed.

Okay but it’s not my fault there’s too many cute girls here, she silently groused, turning and walking in a different direction. That was one thing Ilia hadn’t accounted for when she’d made the decision to apply for Providence, but was now quickly realising. She was going to be spending the next four years surrounded by extremely athletic women her age. In a typically-warm city, with plenty of water and excellent beaches barely five minutes up the coast in either direction…

Oh gods I’m screwed, she thought. Completely and utterly screwed. She’d barely survived being in the same room as the Pyrrha Nikos during the headmaster’s initiation speech, let alone the idea of sharing a room for four years with others like her. And the headmaster’s outfit hadn’t helped matters either.

Just make sure you don’t get into a Blake situation again, she reminded herself, even as darkened amber eyes flashed through her mind again. Just don’t sleep with a lunatic zealot’s partner again. That’ll be easy, you’ve only done it three times already.

As she grumbled quietly to herself, she failed to notice that someone was approaching her. “Er, hey,” a voice suddenly said, causing Ilia’s head to snap back up. She came face-to-face with an anxiously-smiling girl, dark skinned with red eyes and green hair. She wore white trousers with brown leather chaps and a matching belt, with a narrow green crop top covering her chest, along with another top consisting of white straps running around her shoulders and neck.

“Haaaaaaaa…” Ilia responded, her thought processes immediately derailing and landing somewhere firmly in the vicinity of pretty… Her spots lit up pink again as she realised exactly what she was doing, and she quickly cleared her throat. “H-hi!” she managed to say, grinning nervously back at her. 

“Hey,” the other girl repeated. “I’m Emerald. My friends are bullying me into making some more friends,” she said, glancing over at a pair of students. One was a boy in a green tailcoat with black hair, the other was a girl with orange hair who was wearing a black vest with a white top under that. The boy was staring neutrally whilst the girl waved and gave Emerald a double thumbs-up. “And you seem less excitable than the other students, so I figured I’d say hello,” she explained.

“Oh. Well, I’m Ilia,” Ilia introduced herself, glancing briefly at the two mentioned friends. “So, you’re starting at Providence? What made you pick here?” she asked, electing to make small-talk.

Emerald shrugged in response. “The three of us figured we may as well do something more productive than stealing food and picking pockets to survive, and Mistral’s a pretty shit place to be an orphan,” she replied noncommittally. “Figured Argus might be a bit better. Plus it saves us a boat trip to Vale. How about you?” she asked casually.

“Err… Actually sort of the same?” Ilia answered. “But from Mantle, not Mistral,” she clarified. 

Emerald blinked at her. “Oh hey, we got another one,” she commented with a sardonic smirk. “The three of us are orphans and we’ve been sticking together the last few years,” she explained, causing Ilia to nod. “So why Providence over Atlas? Pretty fancy academy they got up there,” she pointed out.

Ilia paused for a moment. It was an opportunity to lie, once again. No one here knew she was a faunus yet. I could go back to pretending, she thought. Pass as human, skip all the bullshit. The idea tasted ashen in her mouth. It felt like a betrayal. Adam had made her flee the White Fang, but it wasn’t like she’d stopped supporting their ideals. Can I really turn my back on all that now?

Rather than answer verbally, Ilia took a deep breath, before cycling her colours. Her skin, hair, and eyes flashed through a whole spectrum of colours before settling on something matching Emerald’s. “Not exactly great for faunus up there, even in the academy,” she said.

Suddenly, her vision was filled with a shock of orange hair and the face of a grinning, wild-eyed girl. “You can change colours?!” she asked excitedly as Ilia recoiled, reaching instinctively for the weapon at her side. “That’s so cool!”

“Uhhh,” was Ilia’s initial, slightly panicked response, taking a step back from the excitable girl now in front of her. “Y-yeah. I’m, um, I’m a chameleon faunus,” she explained, changing back to normal. “I’m Ilia,” she then introduced herself, in an effort to put the conversation back on a more comfortable track.

“I’m Nora!” the other girl practically yelled. “Oh, and that’s Ren!” she then said, pointing at the sole male of the group, who was now wandering closer.

“Nice to meet you all,” Ilia said politely. “So… Orphans?” she asked, somewhat helplessly. Socialising had never been her strong suit, especially with the sort of person she often encountered during her days at an Atlas school. And after years in the White Fang, trying to make conversation with normal people, humans no less, felt impossible.

“Yep!” Nora declared, just as boisterously as ever. “Oh, we should make a club!”

“A club for orphans?” Emerald asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think that’s called an orphanage,” she commented sarcastically. Ilia couldn’t help but give a somewhat stifled laugh at her joke, which made Emerald smirk. Nora, meanwhile, had begun frowning thoughtfully, puzzling over Emerald’s words.

Seeing that Nora was distracted, Ilia abruptly elected to make her escape. “Well, um, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got a few things I need to take care of before tonight. Maybe I’ll see you at dinner?” It was a fairly transparent effort to get away, but she hoped the others would be gracious enough to let it slide.

“Of course,” Ren said, nodding respectfully, to Ilia’s relief. “We have a few things we need to take care of as well.”

“Yeah, so much paperwork,” Emerald groaned. “See you around, Ilia.”

“Yeah, take care!”

The next day after breakfast, the new students were told to gear up and make their way to the docks adjacent to the Arsenal. As they arrived and gathered by one of the academy’s airships, many students were casting curious glances towards the other large group assembling there.

Lining up neatly by a sailing ship’s gangplank were this year’s recruits for the Argoz Coast Guard, identifiable by their cyan uniforms. More experienced sailors and officers were going up the line, inspecting the recruits and occasionally pausing to talk to one of them. It was a sharp contrast to the much less organised riot of colours that was the assembled student hunters.

“Good morning, neophytes!” Captain Caspian greeted them with a cheerful, if diabolical, grin, with Keaton standing at her side. “I hope you had a good breakfast, because you’re going to be spending most of the day away from civilisation.”

“If you would direct your attention over there,” Keaton said, gesturing to a few rows of neatly stacked piles of equipment. “Those are your supplies for the day. Rations, a few bits of survival equipment, maps, that sort of thing, each marked with your name. If you informed us that you cannot swim, you’ll find a life jacket with your assigned supplies.”

“You will also each find two emergency flares,” Caspian continued, the two clearly having rehearsed this introduction, or at least given it enough times for it to become routine. “One red, and one green. Red indicates that you or the group you are with are in distress and need rescue. Green indicates a medical emergency. Yellow, which you don’t have but will be in use by our friends in the coast guard,” she gestured at the large sailing ship, “means they have seen your flare and are responding.

“Please keep in mind that though this is a dangerous profession, your safety remains paramount. I want to make this very clear; using your distress flares will not cause you to automatically ‘fail’ initiation,” she emphasised as she paced in front of the students. “Failing to use them if you do end up in significant distress, however, will reflect poorly on you in your assessment. Likewise, using them when you are not in distress will also reflect poorly on you. Remember; crying does not count as an emergency.”

“You will be dropped further up the coast,” Keaton interjected. “Your objective, other than to survive, is to reach the three islands marked on your maps and collect a flag from each, before reaching a fourth island. You will reach these islands by way of rafts, assembled from items found in the area. Each raft must carry four students. You will also be expected to eat at least one meal from the provided rations. Skipping meals in the field is generally a poor idea.”

“Once everyone reaches the fourth island, you will be collected by the MCGS Carefree,” Caspian then said, gesturing once again to the ship the coast guard trainees were boarding. Pyrrha took the time to glance over at the Carefree. It was a tall, three-masted frigate, its hull painted the same cyan as the coast guards’ uniforms. A single band of gold ran around the hull, studded with currently-closed gunports, and an angled red stripe was located closer to the bow.

Fittingly for its role, the ships’ flanks were lined with boats hooked to davits, and the gunwales bristled with bits of equipment intended for rescue operations. They also bristled with additional weapons such as harpoons and deck guns for the purposes of fending off grimm or engaging pirates.

Two flags flew from the rearmost mast. The lower of the two was the flag of Mistral, made up of a solid block of white for the top half, with a stripe of red and then a stripe of green on the bottom, overlaid with the winged lamp crest of Mistral. The higher of the two flags was the flag of Argus, consisting of horizontal stripes of red, gold, and dark blue, complete with the sword-and-anchor symbol of the city.

“The Argoz Coast Guard will be doing search and rescue training today with their trainees, so they’ll be responding to any distress signals,” Keaton added. “Your progress will be monitored, and you will receive your assessment after initiation is completed. Are there any questions?”

“Are there sharks?” one of the students called out nervously.

Caspian laughed. “Are there sharks?” she echoed. “Oh yes, there are sharks. You should be more worried about the grimm, however.”

Chapter Text

After Captain Caspian’s somewhat ominous warning, the students collected their assigned packs and filed onto the airship. Almost immediately, many of them began trading the contents of their ration packs. Weiss took the time to consider the contents of hers, bringing to mind what she remembered of Winter talking about the Atlas military’s equivalent.

All Day Breakfast. I think that’s a good one, she thought, quickly putting the various pouches, packets, and sachets into different compartments of the bags the academy had assigned to her. After making some adjustments to make it fit her wings and slight frame better, she carefully set them at her feet.

The airship flight was a quick one, their intended drop zone a short distance up the coast. “I hope you all remember your landing strategies!” Captain Caspian called from the front of the hold, a broad grin on her face. “We’re approaching the drop zone now! If you would, please make yourselves ready!”

Weiss quickly donned her pack, doing a final check to make sure they wouldn’t interfere with her flight. She didn’t have room in the hold to actually give them a test flap, so she settled for a more restrained flutter against her back.

“Final warning, dropping in two minutes!” Caspian then announced. The last few stragglers got to their feet, getting themselves ready. “Line up by the rear ramp, single file!” Caspian ordered, marching up to the ramp to oversee the process directly.

A bell rang as the rear hatch opened, the howl of rushing air filling the hold. Weiss found herself somewhere in the middle of the line. Caspian held a hand to her ear, glancing to that side as she listened intently. Then the broad grin returned, and Weiss briefly suspected she could see fangs.

“Jump, jump, jump!” Caspian declared, motioning with her arms. One after the other, the students leapt out, some letting out whoops and cheers as they did so. The seventh in the line froze up at the ramp, causing Caspian to grab and drag them to the side, sending them to the back of the line.

Eventually, Weiss’ turn came up, and she threw herself out the airship wordlessly. She flared her wings almost immediately, starting a glide as she surveyed the land beneath her. The area the students were being dropped over was a densely forested part of the shoreline, a river delta spreading across the coast. Weiss found herself briefly lost in the verdant landscape, eyes wide with wonder. There was nothing like this in Atlas, nothing like the sea of the green she soared over.

A loud whoop somewhere behind her startled her from her reverie, reminding her of what she was meant to be doing. She tucked her wings, and dived for one of the clearings in the forest. She flared her wings out again a short distance above the ground, landing softly.

She gave her wings a final flap before folding them against her back, drawing Myrtenaster as she scanned her surroundings. Right, let’s see, she thought, reminding herself of her objectives. Find materials and a team of four to build and sail a raft. Navigate to three islands, collect flags. Navigate to a fourth, await pickup.

Her train of thought was interrupted by something growling and shambling out of the undergrowth to her right. Her head snapped over, turning her body to face the approaching creature. It was broad and barrel-chested with a blunt-snouted white mask, large spines sticking out from its back with patches of bone-like plating along its limbs and shoulders. It gave another low growl before roaring at Weiss, beginning to charge.

Ursa, but not a major, Weiss quickly identified. As it rushed her, she made her plan. Setting her stance and letting it come for her, she summoned a glyph. A metallic ringing sound filled the air as the ursa slammed into a slowly spinning black snowflake. It began forcing its way through it, snarling and roaring as the glyph dragged it back, dramatically slowing its pace.

Weiss smirked before lunging forwards, accelerated by another glyph and a flap of her wings. Cycling Myrtenaster’s cylinder, she darted past its right side, striking both limbs and trapping them in ice. As the ursa bellowed and tried to free itself, Weiss repeated the process on its left side, leaving it anchored in place.

As she danced around to its front, the ursa hunched its shoulders, glaring hatefully at Weiss before opening its maw in a mighty roar. The howl was sharply curtailed as Weiss thrust the tip of Myrtenaster into its open mouth, through its palette, and out the back of its head.

Weiss casually pulled the blade out of the now-dissolving grimm, wiping the tip on the grass to get rid of the black liquid clinging to it. Another rustle to her left caused her to swiftly round on whatever else was approaching, but she relaxed when she realised it was another student stepping into the clearing.

“Hey buddy!” She tried not to let her shoulders sag as she realised exactly who it was emerging from the trees.

“Good morning, Sun,” she greeted him politely. 

“I saw you take down that ursa, that was cool as hell! Like, ice cold,” he complimented her, grunting as he dragged something behind him. “We definitely need to stick together now.”

“Thank you!” Weiss said, beaming despite herself at the compliment. She then blinked as she saw what he was half-carrying, half-dragging out of the forest. He’d apparently managed to find a mast from somewhere, currently in two pieces and lashed together with rope, some sailcloth wrapped around that to make a bundle.

“... Is that a mast?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yep! Auntie said we needed to make rafts, so when I saw this I just grabbed it,” Sun said, apparently forgetting Captain Caspian’s orders already.

“I see,” Weiss said flatly. He’s resourceful, at least, she reluctantly granted.

“So, what’s the plan?” Sun asked, depositing the bundle of mast onto the grass. Weiss hummed softly, twisting her lip and glancing to the side as she thought.

“Our first step should be getting our bearings. I got a good look of the area before landing, so with a map we should be able to find our location,” Weiss said. “After that, we find water, and follow it to the coast. We can try and find more materials to make a raft along the way, and build it closer to the sea,” she decided.

“Sounds good! Hang on, I got my map here,” Sun said, quickly rooting through his pack before retrieving the folded up map with a triumphant flourish. He then held it out to Weiss. “Here you go.”

Weiss nodded at him and took the map. “Thank you,” she said, before unfolding it and studying it. Recalling what she saw on her way to the ground, she squinted at the map before tapping her finger on one of the marked clearings. “I believe we are here. Which means the closest water is that way,” she said, pointing to her right.

“Sounds good,” said Sun, before blinking. “Wait, how’d you know that?” he asked, looking in the direction she pointed. “Don’t you need a compass to know which way to go?”

“North is that way,” Weiss said by way of an answer, pointing to her left before folding the map and giving it back to Sun. “Let’s go.” With that, she turned to her right and started walking.

“Oh, sure. Wait, lemme grab the mast.”

Ilia hummed quietly to herself as she studied the small pile of building materials she’d collected from her immediate surroundings. Three barrels, good for the foundation. And them leaving a rudder for us to find implies that there’s sails we can find… How am I going to move all this, though? 

She exhaled through her nose, looking around once again. If I found some rope I could lash it all together and float it along the river… I don’t really want to risk someone else taking all this, though.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of something approaching. “Oh, hello!” a voice called. Ilia blinked before turning to look at the source, before freezing, her eyes going wide.

Oh fuck. Approaching her with a friendly smile on her face was Pyrrha Nikos. Incredibly tall with long red hair in a ponytail, tanned skin, and emerald eyes, a tri-peak jester’s hat was perched on top of her head. It was made of alternating panels of red and gold fabric, each peak featuring a pair of small silver cages containing dust crystals, creating a crystalline jingling noise as she moved her head.

Her face was decorated with a gold diamond over her right eye, her left featuring green eyeshadow in an elaborate wing, whilst her lips were painted a vivid red. A short, red jacket with puffy, slashed sleeves was worn over her shoulders, set with green buttons, gold fabric flashing between the slits. Under that she wore a coppery-brown and gold corset that ended at the bottom of her ribcage, leaving her midriff bare.

An ankle-length sash patterned with red, gold, and green diamonds was wrapped around her waist, a pair of leggings worn beneath that. The right leg had gold and green vertical stripes, whilst the left continued the diamond pattern, this time in red, brown, and blue. Her leggings led to a pair of high-heeled boots with wide cuffs and pointed toes. The boots were segmented, the inward-facing side of the cuffs coloured brown whilst the outward-facing sides were red, with the lower portion of the boots coloured the opposite, the heels coloured gold.

And, impossible to miss as they fluttered briefly behind her, were her wings. Coloured red along the limbs and changing to yellow, then green, then blue, they further added to the riot of colours that made up Pyrrha’s harlequin-esque outfit. Held loosely in one hand, the butt resting on the ground as its owner came to a halt, was a tall pike seemingly made of bronze, partially wrapped in red-dyed leather, with four streamers attached to the tip, one red, one blue, one green, one gold.

“Haaaaaa,” was all that escaped Ilia’s mouth as she stared wide-eyed up at the taller woman. Dimly, she was aware that her spots were now lighting up pink, and she fought desperately to change them back to normal. Stop being so fucking gay for five seconds, she screamed internally. “H-hey!” she finally managed to say, giving a shy wave.

Across from her, Pyrrha tried very hard not to sigh. Was it too much to ask to not run into a fan right away? she thought bitterly. As Ilia tried to recover, Pyrrha quickly looked her over. She was almost two feet shorter than her, tan with currently-pink spots dotting her skin, she had grey eyes and brown hair tied back in a ponytail that curled at the end.

She wore a short black jacket with tails and a white lining, with a gold zipper, buttons, and a pair of straps keeping her sleeves rolled up, whilst under that she wore a grey crop top. A black wristband was present on her right wrist, whilst black ribbon was wrapped around her left arm. Further down, she wore red-brown trousers and black ankle boots with a white wedge heel, each featuring a pair of golden buckles.

Her weapon was slung at her side, almost resembling a revolver with the barrel lopped off. The handle was wrapped in black leather and projected out the back of the cylinder before bending down, the long trigger following the curve. A pair of smaller cylinders were attached to the side of the main body, projecting ahead of the blunt face and glowing yellow.

“I’m Ilia,” the other girl finally managed to say, managing to change her spots back to their usual dark brown and clearing her throat. Be chill, be chill. Stop freaking out about the hot woman.

“I’m Pyrrha. It’s nice to meet you, Ilia,” Pyrrha replied, remaining polite despite her earlier disappointment. She then looked at the pile Ilia had assembled. “Did you find all these?” she asked.

“I did,” Ilia answered. “The headmaster said we’d need to build rafts. The barrels are going to be needed for building the base of it. The rudder will be useful, but only if we can find a mast. If we can find some rope, we can lash it all together and float it along the river…” she continued, returning to her musing. It was easier for her to avoid tripping over her own intense lesbianism if she was focussing on a task.

“Or we could just carry it all,” Pyrrha suggested. “The coast is that direction, do you think you can get one of the barrels and the rudder?” she asked.

“Uhh, sure,” Ilia said, glancing at the pile. Pyrrha nodded, before walking over, her weapon telescoping shorter as she used the streamers to make a sling, hanging it from her shoulder. She then crouched down, grabbing one barrel and putting it on her left shoulder, supported by that arm, before hefting the second barrel under her right. She then stood, not seeming to struggle with the weight at all.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Ilia stared at the display for a second before shaking her head, fighting back another blush. “R-right,” she stammered out. She fumbled with the last barrel and the rudder for a few moments, finally managing to lift the barrel with both hands and pinning the rudder between it and her chest.

Pyrrha nodded at her once Ilia had her share of the materials in-hand, before turning and starting to lead the way. Ilia followed behind her, looking anywhere but Pyrrha’s rear. I’m not going to fucking survive four years of this.

Chapter Text

Ilia and Pyrrha walked in silence for a little while, broken only by the crystalline jingling of Pyrrha’s hat, the sound of their footsteps, and the noises made by the animals in the forest around them. The noises made Ilia more at ease; if the animals stopped making noise, that normally meant grimm were near.

Eventually, as they followed the path of a river, the pair heard voices. “So how is this gonna work?” the first voice, a masculine-sounding one, asked.

“The sail you found is going to be useful for propulsion,” a second voice answered, a higher pitched feminine one. “Even if the wind isn’t blowing in the right direction, I can use air dust,” the voice continued confidently.

“Fair enough. We still need to make the raft, though.” Sharing a look, the pair finally broke through the foliage and stepped out onto a narrow beach. There at the shoreline was a pile of barrels and assorted other raft-building materials. Ilia glanced around, quickly spotting the two talking students.

The first was a male monkey faunus, with blond hair and a puzzled look on his face as he scratched the back of his head. Her eyes immediately spotted the collapsed staff worn on his belt, picking out the pair of triggers. She then glanced at the other student.

… Of-fucking-course it would be. Why is my luck so shit? There, almost glowing under the midday sun thanks to how pale she was, was none other than Weiss Schnee herself. The enormous white wings occasionally shuffling on her back still mentally jarred Ilia, still struggling to mentally square the idea of there being a faunus Schnee.

“Hello!” Ilia’s briefly-considered plan of simply retreating back into the forest was ruined by Pyrrha calling out a greeting to the other two, causing them both to look over.

“Oh, hey!” the blond called back, waving enthusiastically at them. He then paused, blinking as he looked at Pyrrha, before pointing at her. “You’re a clown,” he stated.

Pyrrha was briefly taken off-guard by the blunt statement, before she giggled. “I am, yes,” she confirmed. “I’m Pyrrha, this is Ilia.”

“I’m Sun,” Sun replied, pointing at himself with a thumb. “This is Weiss!” he added, gesturing at Weiss exaggeratedly.

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Weiss said, quickly looking away from Pyrrha before settling her eyes on Ilia, looking faintly quizzical as Sun continued talking.

“I guess we’re gonna be working together?” Sun asked. “We managed to find a few things, the big thing is the mast.”

Did she just blush from looking at Pyrrha? Ilia briefly wondered, before she realised Weiss’ eyes weren’t leaving her. Why is she staring at me?

“Well, we found a rudder,” Pyrrha said. “So we have propulsion and steering covered. It sounds like we just need to assemble the raft?”

Does she know? The thought briefly terrified Ilia before common sense reasserted itself. No, how would she know? But she’s still staring at me. Why? And why do I like it?! Ilia quickly found herself blushing as the very very pretty Schnee continued looking at her, tilting her head to the side. “Can I help you?” Ilia asked, a little shortly.

Weiss blinked, a little startled. “I was trying to figure out what your weapon is,” Weiss said with a bit of a huff, clearly a touch offended by Ilia’s harsh tone.

“... Oh,” Ilia uttered uselessly. “It’s a rapier-whip,” she then answered, before fumbling with the barrel and rudder held awkwardly in her arms still. Without another word, she quickly added both to the pile of supplies with Pyrrha joining her a moment later.

“I see,” Weiss said, glancing at the pile. “... I think we need more barrels. And planks,” she opined after considering the collected materials.

“I think you’re right,” Pyrrha agreed. Weiss tried not to look too pleased at that.

“Why don’t Pyrrha and I go find some more?” Sun offered. When the three women turned to look at him, he continued. “I mean, no offence but… We can probably carry the most. You’re both pretty small,” he explained. “And we need someone to watch the supplies we already have.”

No, absolutely not, you are not leaving me alone with the Schnee was what Ilia wanted to say. For any member of the White Fang, alone with any Schnee was either a dream or a nightmare, depending on which Schnee it was. Winter Schnee was firmly in the ‘nightmare’ camp, with the others being in the ‘dream’ camp for the political leverage it would have given the Fang.

Ilia still had no idea which camp Weiss belonged in. Once again, common sense reared its head to remind her that making a scene about being left with the Schnee would only cause suspicion. So, instead of protesting, she simply nodded silently.

“I’m not that small,” Weiss huffed, folding her arms. Ilia blinked, turning to stare at her incredulously. Pyrrha arched a quizzical eyebrow, which caused Weiss to blush slightly. Sun just looked at her silently, processing her words for a moment.

“... We’ll be back soon,” he said, eventually opting to not engage with Weiss’ statement as he looked at Pyrrha. Pyrrha nodded, moving to follow him, leaving Weiss and Ilia with the pile of supplies.

The pair of them watched Sun and Pyrrha leave, before falling into an awkward silence, neither of them sure how to engage the other in small talk. “... I like your ponytail,” Ilia eventually said, regretting it instantly. ‘I like your ponytail’?! Really?!

“... Thanks. You too,” Weiss replied after a few moments. Ilia paused, before endeavouring to look anywhere but the Schnee.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Sun and Pyrrha to return with enough materials to build their raft. Immediately, Weiss took charge of the construction effort, which caused Ilia’s temper to flare in her chest. Despite her almost-instinctual opposition to letting a Schnee take charge, she wasn’t doing a terrible job with it. She was, however, being a bit bossy about it, which grated on Ilia further. And she was getting some important things wrong.

Just typical for a Schnee, she thought bitterly, watching Weiss lash a barrel and two planks together. When Ilia saw exactly what knot Weiss was using, something more suited to a corset than a watercraft, she finally lost her patience.

“That’s wrong,” she said sharply, walking over. Weiss turned her head to look at her, frowning and opening her mouth to say something. Ilia continued before she could. “That knot won’t hold together, and right now the whole thing’s way too narrow. It’s gonna capsize if we make it like this. Have you even seen a boat before?” 

The words came out harsher than Ilia really meant for them to be, but that many years of seething hatred for the Schnee family made it hard to be gentle with a member of that family. The flash of hurt in Weiss’ eyes briefly made Ilia regret her words. Then an affronted look settled on her face, stopping just short of sneering. 

“Of course I’ve seen boats before, and the vast majority of them are longer than they are wide,” she shot back, her tone daring Ilia to contradict her. “The wider it is, the more drag it has through the water. And we’ve only got one sail and no oars,” she pointed out.

“It’s still too narrow! You need something to stabilise it, and I didn’t notice a keel in that pile, Princess,” Ilia countered. Weiss did sneer at that, but before she could retort, both of them were started by a flash of colour appearing between them.

It was Pyrrha’s hat, Ilia quickly realised, crystals chiming as it was waggled on the end of Pyrrha’s pike. Both of them turned, following the haft of the weapon before glancing up to look at Pyrrha’s smiling face, though Ilia thought she saw a hint of reproach in her expression. She gave her weapon another wiggle before retrieving it, flicking her hat into the air and catching it.

“Arguing isn’t going to help,” she said simply before donning the cap, the points jostling a little before falling still once again. “You’ve both got good points. Why don’t we make something like a catamaran? That would give it more stability, whilst keeping drag down,” she then suggested.

“... That would work,” Ilia said, making an effort not to look at Weiss. “I’ll work on the frame,” she then said, turning on her heel to go make the necessary adjustments. She grumbled to herself as she did, slipping out of Valean. “Stupid Schnee, with her stupid knots and stupid ideas and stupid perfect hair…”

Pyrrha glanced at her in surprise, tilting her head. She speaks Shamesh? she thought. That probably makes her a faunus… Which explains the spots changing colour. She decided to file that information away for later, before setting about helping build the raft.

By the time they’d finished making their raft, they’d ended up with something approximating a trimaran, it having proved easier to mount the mast to a base made of barrels lashed together. Getting the mast and sail set up properly had been the most challenging part of the process. Pyrrha had happily informed the rest of them that it was a ‘lanteen’ style of rigging. Ilia had just mentally dubbed it ‘pain in the arse’.

Finally, though, they were underway. To keep the weight distributed properly, they had Sun on the rudder, with Pyrrha closer to the mast, and Weiss and Ilia on either side. Being separated from the Schnee suited Ilia just fine. And having Pyrrha responsible for the ropes made sense, since she had the most experience around boats. Weiss tried very hard not to glance at her as Pyrrha moved around the raft, bending over to check the knots.

It was a clear, calm, sunny day, which meant the raft was reasonably steady as they sailed away from the mainland, Weiss looking over her map. “The first island is that way,” she said, pointing slightly off to the right of the boat. “Not the first island we’ll pass, but the second one. According to the map it should be roughly horseshoe shaped?”

“I think I saw it from the air,” Pyrrha said with a nod as Sun angled the rudder, turning the raft in the direction Weiss had pointed. Pyrrha adjusted the sail a little to catch the wind more efficiently. “It looked like there was a beach in the bay, should be a good place to put the raft ashore.”

“Maybe we should stop for lunch on that island as well?” Ilia suggested, peering into the distance as she spotted another team’s raft. They’d made something a bit more basic, a rough square shape, and they were propelling it with oars. Part of Ilia felt a bit of sympathy at the idea of having to paddle between the islands, but the rest of her was quietly smug that her team’s raft was better.

“Sounds good, I’m getting hungry,” Sun agreed. “This is pretty nice!” he then added, looking around with a grin. “Weather’s great, there’s a nice breeze, and we’re on a boat! It’s like a holiday.”

“Well, don’t get too relaxed,” Weiss said, pointing out across the water. The others turned to look where she was pointing, and saw a black, tattered-looking fin cutting through the water some distance away.

“Looks like a razormaw,” Pyrrha offered. “It’s like a grimm shark,” she then explained. “It should leave us alone so long as we stay out of the water.”

“... Right, guess I kinda forgot grimm are in the water as well,” Sun said, slightly mollified. With that reminder that danger still lurked even in their idyllic surroundings, they sailed on, skirting around the first island before angling to the second. As promised, there was a wide bay with a long beach, the two headlands curling inwards slightly.

The island was invitingly picturesque. White sand, palm trees, everything Ilia would have expected at a tropical resort. “So where’s the bar serving drinks in coconuts?” she joked. Pyrrha smirked at her joke, which threatened to make Ilia blush, whilst Sun snorted with laughter. Weiss just looked faintly confused.

“So, we’re looking for a flag, correct?” Pyrrha asked after the team had hauled their raft a short distance onto the beach, looking around. Her eyes settled on a pile of rocks jutting out of the sand. Something about them seemed out of place. Looks like basalt… This whole area used to have a lot of volcanic activity, but they still look strange…

“Correct,” Weiss answered, looking up at the cliffs that formed the two headlands. “Pyrrha and I could look for them from the air,” she suggested.

“Good idea,” Ilia said with a nod, trying not to be distracted by the fact she was agreeing with a Schnee. “Just keep an eye out for—”

“Grimm,” Pyrrha said suddenly, flaring her wings and readying her pike as the pile of rocks shifted. They ground against one another, the earth beneath them heaving up. Sand cascaded off the rising object, revealing a broad, curved white carapace, the basalt rocks apparently fused into it. More and more of the creature was revealed as it rose to armoured, segmented legs, bristling with spikes.

The body underneath all the white plating was pitch black and shiny, and red lines marked the whole thing. A pair of pincers, one larger than the other, projected ahead of it, and a quartet of glowing red eyes peered balefully out from the ridge of its upper carapace, said ridge lined with serrated points. It was enormous, looming more than double even Pyrrha’s height, the main carapace almost double that again.

“Crab!” Sun said excitedly, pointing at the massive grimm with a broad grin on his face. Viciously-fanged mandibles chittered before parting in a rattling roar, black tar-like goo leaking from the orifice. Sun’s grin disappeared. “Oh, shit, grimm crab!”

“Karkinos,” Pyrrha offered. It made a wet, rasping noise, rearing back slightly as its mandibles worked. “Move!” she shouted, darting to the side. The others moved as well, scattering as the grimm spat tar-like sludge at them. It flew at a blistering pace and impacted where Pyrrha had been standing, splattering across the sand and sizzling.

“Karkinos have highly acidic and viscous saliva!” Weiss called out. “They use it to immobilise their prey!”

“So don’t let the giant crab spit on you. Got it.” Ilia swallowed quietly as she considered the threat ahead of them. How the hell do we fight something like this?! The White Fang rarely bothered fighting the larger grimm. Typically it was easier just to avoid them, and there were usually enough of them that big grimm like this didn’t think they were worth the effort.

Here, though, it was just the four of them, and the crab clearly thought they were worth it. The crab bellowed again before it began trundling forwards, its legs skittering loudly as it crawled its way across the sand at a disconcerting pace. “Keep it away from the raft!” Ilia yelled, the threat to their vessel flashing across her mind as she sprinted at a diagonal, trying to lead it away from the shoreline, drawing her weapon as she went.

Once it was no longer at risk of charging into the raft, Ilia changed course to meet its rush head-on. She could see Sun doing the same out of the corner of her eye, whilst the flapping of wings above her told her that Weiss and Pyrrha had elected to go airborne. It roared at her, swinging a massive claw in a wide arc, trying to catch her with the hooked tip.

Nimbly, she ducked and rolled under the swipe, rising to her feet as she lashed out with her own attack. The whip-like blade extended, adding more reach and power to the strike, the tip accelerating to the point it broke the sound barrier with a sharp crack right as it struck the grimm’s limb.

Her sense of triumph was short lived as she saw the effects of her attack; a tiny crack in the black carapace. Beside her, Sun had barely more luck as he struck a leg with his staff. Above them, Weiss and Pyrrha fluttered back and forth, looking for a weak point on top of the creature. The rocks it had somehow melded to its carapace made finding any such points much harder.

Frowning to herself, Pyrrha swept in closer to land on its shell. “Wait!” She flapped her wings rapidly, gaining altitude again at Weiss’ shout. She looked over quizzically. “Karkinos can also secrete that saliva from their shells. It’s how they stick things like rocks to them, but it also means landing on them is very dangerous,” she warned her.

“Right,” Pyrrha said with a grateful nod. The crab bellowed, thrashing around itself with both claws, managing to catch Sun in the side and throwing him a considerable distance. He landed with a grunt, but quickly rolled to its feet. Weiss and Pyrrha were then forced to gain altitude as it swung up at them, trying to snatch them out of the air.

“We need to find a weak point!” Weiss yelled.

“There’s usually a weak spot underneath crabs!” Pyrrha offered.

“Yeah, good luck getting there without it squashing you!” Sun pointed out, eying the grimm warily as it snapped its pincers warningly. He then yelped as it spat at him, ducking under the glob of saliva.

“Maybe if we blind it first…” Weiss mused. “Pyrrha, if I pin it in place, can you get its eyes?” Weiss asked.

“I can try,” Pyrrha answered with a nod and a determined look that looked somewhat out of place when considered against her outfit and face paint.

“Alright.” Weiss took a deep breath before banking around, cycling Myrtenaster’s cylinder before landing a short distance from the crab. Raising her rapier and focussing, she created a large black glyph just ahead of it as it bore down on Sun and Ilia. The glyph activated, and the crab lurched to halt, almost toppling over as its legs suddenly became rooted in place. “Now!”

Pyrrha responded instantly, tucking her wings in and diving, flaring them once she was level with the grimm’s eyes. She hurtled straight towards them, her pike held ahead of her. The crab saw her coming, and a claw lashed out at her. She tried to pump her wings to speed past it, but the grimm was faster, catching her by the ankle.

She yelped as her velocity was suddenly reversed, the crab slamming her into the sand before tossing her aside. “Pyrrha!” Weiss yelled, panicked as she rushed over to her.

Fuck, Ilia swore internally, not taking her eyes off the crab as it struggled against Weiss’ glyph. With a mighty heave, it tore its way free, the sigil disappearing. Sun rushed it again, his staff flying apart into a pair of nunchucks, Ilia noting with no small amount of concern that each had a pair of shotguns built into them.

As Sun laid into the crab with a hail of point-blank blasts, Weiss dropped to her knees next to the prone and groaning Pyrrha. “Pyrrha! Are you alright?!” she asked frantically.

“I’m fine,” Pyrrha assured her, sitting up and shaking her head, making her hat jingle as she did so. “It’s faster than it looks.”

“I noticed,” Weiss said with a grimace, looking back at the grimm as it roared in frustration, rocking backwards before suddenly throwing itself forwards. Sun yelped and scrambled to avoid it as the crab tucked its legs under it and began spinning rapidly, careening around the beach like a demented spinning top.

“It spins?!” Sun yelled incredulously. Weiss and Pyrrha both quickly scrambled to their feet and took off as it veered in their direction. Ilia watched it as it crashed into another large rock and recoiled, staggered briefly before turning to face the group again. Suddenly, an idea came to her.

“Schnee!” she called out, causing Weiss to look at her with a frown. “You managed to pin it in place with your semblance, can you do anything like flip it over?” she asked.

“Maybe! It would be easier to make a ramp and use that to flip it though!” Weiss called back. Ilia nodded, keeping an eye on the crab as it began to move.

“Sun and I will get it to charge us—”

“We will?!”

“—and when it does, you make the ramp. Pyrrha! When it’s on its back, you stab it in the belly!”

“Got it!” Pyrrha replied with a nod. Ilia glanced at Sun, who groaned loudly.

“This is really dangerous, but fine!” he relented, looking at the grimm again. With a yell, he ran at it, with Ilia shortly behind him. The pair launched a series of attacks, Ilia lashing high with her whip whilst Sun battered at a claw with his staff. The blows weren’t meant to accomplish anything but angering the crab, and they succeeded at that.

It gave a frustrated bellow, backing up and bracing its legs. “That’s our cue!” Sun yelled, turning and sprinting away. Ilia followed his lead, pumping her legs and sprinting as fast as she could across the sand. A thud and the sound of shifting sand behind her told her the grimm was spinning towards them once again.

A gust of wind hit Ilia as Weiss flew past the pair, waving Myrtenaster as she dipped closer to the ground. Dust flowed, solidifying into a ramp of solid ice that twisted around until it was almost upside down at the end.

“Split!” Ilia yelled at Sun as they approached the ramp, darting to the left as he broke right. Briefly confused as to which of them it should follow, the crab wasn’t able to stop before hitting the ramp. Its momentum caused the ramp to break before it reached the end, but it was still enough to deposit it on its side. Weighed down by the rocks on its carapace, the crab screeched as it fell onto its back, legs and claws flailing.

“Now!” Pyrrha was already moving by the time Ilia shouted. As Sun and Ilia had drawn its attention, Pyrrha had been gaining altitude. Altitude she was now rapidly losing as she tucked her wings into her side, her dive near-vertical. Her eyes were fixed on the crab’s underbelly, right between its eight legs.

Her aim was true. The tip of her pike punched through the weak shell of the grimm’s underside, piercing into the soft flesh beneath. As soon as she felt it was deep enough for a killing blow, she used her semblance to trigger a mechanism hidden within the haft. Suddenly, the weapon lost all its rigidity, bending dramatically with Pyrrha holding onto the end opposite the point, quickly twisting to plant her feet there as well.

Pyrrha finally came to a halt with her weapon bent almost in half, perched on the end of it in a crouch. Catching the other three staring at her, she winked as her weapon’s elasticity asserted itself, springing back straight and launching Pyrrha airborne as it did so. With practised ease, Pyrrha tucked into a somersault before flaring her wings as she landed, both feet together with her arms outstretched above her.

Weiss clapped politely and smiled at her as Sun and Ilia gawped. Behind her, the crab gave a final keening bellow before falling still for the last time, smoke starting to seep from the edges of its carapace. Pyrrha lowered her arms, wings folding behind her again. “So… Lunch?” she suggested.

Chapter Text

They’d elected to eat lunch on the beach under the shade of some trees, something Weiss was quietly grateful for. Aura helped, as did the covert use of tiny amounts of ice dust, but she was starting to struggle a little with the heat. The others seemed unphased. Weiss wasn’t yet sure of Sun and Ilia’s histories, but Pyrrha coping with the heat made sense, since she was native to the area.

“So,” Pyrrha began between forkfuls, scooping what might have been pasta bake out of the MRE packet. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you pick Argoz and Providence Academy?” she asked.

“I mean, Shade Academy’s meant to be pretty mean.” Sun was the first to answer. “So I wasn’t really into the idea of going there. I was looking at Haven as well, but then I saw pictures of Providence and just, I’d never seen that much water before!” he said excitedly, gesturing out towards the bay.

“Oh, and the headmaster is my aunt,” he added, taking a mouthful of his own MRE. Weiss squinted at him, whilst Pyrrha and Ilia gave him curious looks. Swallowing his food, he turned to Pyrrha. “Why do you say it ‘Argoz’ by the way?” he asked. “I thought it was ‘Argus’?”

Pyrrha quickly hid a grimace. “Argus is the Mistrali name for the city,” she explained. “Argoz is the proper name, what we call the city,” she emphasised.

“Why’d Mistral do that?” Sun asked, tilting his head and frowning. Pyrrha frowned into her food, idly stirring it with a fork as she considered her answer.

“There’s a few reasons, none of them happy,” she eventually said. “We can talk about them later, if you like. Otherwise, you’ll learn about them in History.” Sun nodded.

“Sure thing. So, Argoz, got it,” he said. “How about you two?” he asked, looking to Weiss and Ilia. Both of them hesitated, each reluctant to divulge painful details of their past.

“I fell in love with Argoz two years ago,” Weiss began, finding her nerve first. “After…” She swallowed. “After what happened with Jacques, my mother had Klein take us here on a ‘holiday’, to get us away from the chaos.” A slightly distant look settled in her eyes as she spoke.

“After a decade and a half trapped in that mansion… Argoz felt impossibly alive. It was so bright, and warm. And there were so many people and noises and smells and colours. It was… It was everything the mansion wasn’t. And for the first time in my life I felt… Free.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“I could do all the things he’d never let me do. I could go outside. I could talk to people. I ate street food, went on boats, listened to buskers and watched street performers. I even went to the circus a few times and saw your show,” she said, looking at Pyrrha, her smile widening. She then paused upon seeing Pyrrha’s broad, delighted grin, elated at Weiss’ clear enthusiasm for the city.

Weiss shrank back a little, embarrassed. “Sorry, I was rambling,” she apologised. “I just… I love Argoz, so when it came time to pick an academy, the choice was easy.” Her words were quieter now, more restrained. Pyrrha watched her for a moment, sifting through everything she’d said, searching for a safe subject to inquire about.

“Who’s Klein?” she asked, hoping she’d found one. The small smile that returned to Weiss’ face confirmed she had.

“He’s… Strictly speaking, he’s our head butler,” Weiss answered. “But in reality he’s a lot more than that, at least to me. He practically raised me when…” She caught herself, frowning again. “When other people weren’t.”

Half safe, Pyrrha thought, hiding a frown of her own. After letting the silence rest for what she hoped was an appropriate enough amount of time, she looked at Ilia. “And how about you?” she asked gently.

Ilia swallowed her mouthful of food. Thanks to Weiss going before her, she’d had time to gather her thoughts and prepare an answer. “My parents died a while ago, and I ran away from home afterwards. I fell in with a bad crowd. I learnt to fight, and steal, and a dozen other things people in bad crowds teach to kids. I had to run away from that crowd, though. 

“I couldn’t go to Vale, that’s where I ran from,” she continued, scowling at her food. “And Argus— Sorry, Argoz was the closest place I’d be safe. And the academies are supposed to be a good place for second chances, so…” She tailed off and shrugged. Weiss looked over at her, worrying at her lip briefly.

“So… You were a criminal?” she asked. It was a strange tone, the words said slowly, as if Weiss was trying to figure out how she was meant to feel about it even as she asked the question. Ilia lifted her head, her scowl deepening as she met Weiss’ eyes.

“You don’t get to judge me, Schnee,” she shot back. Weiss recoiled at the venom in her voice, before she seemed to remember herself. She scoffed, matching Ilia’s intense glare before returning to her food. Ilia looked at her for a moment longer before turning away. As she did so, she caught the reproachful look Pyrrha was giving her and ducked her head so she wouldn’t see the guilty expression forming on her face.

Sun glanced between the three of them, a worried frown on his face. Ilia doesn’t like Weiss, he mused. Or doesn’t like her family? Maybe something with the SDC? And Weiss said something happened with Jacques… Isn’t that the name of her dad? There was definitely a lot more going on than people were saying, he knew that. Maybe they’ll open up more in time. For now…

“Well, we still need to take care of actually getting into the school,” he pointed out light-heartedly as he crumpled up his empty MRE packet and stuffed it in a bag. “I’m done eating. Wanna go find that flag?”

Finding the flag didn’t take the group long, and as they were leaving another couple of rafts were arriving at the island. “Should we wait for them and team up?” he asked. “Might make fighting other grimm we run into easier.”

“We might be getting graded on speed,” Weiss pointed out. “And neither of them have sails, so they’ll be going a lot slower than us. We managed to handle the Karkinos, I think we’ll be alright with just us four.”

The others had agreed with Weiss’ assessment, and they quickly got back out on the water. In the time they’d been on the island, a large number of other rafts had been constructed, variously sailing or rowing between the islands. Some had elected to cluster together, but the majority were going it alone.

“Ok, the other two islands are to our south,” Weiss said as she consulted the map, frowning softly. She was sitting cross-legged on the raft, one knee bouncing up and down repeatedly. Pyrrha hummed, looking at the sail.

“We’re going to have a bad tack with our sail like this,” she mused aloud. At the lost looks she got from the others, she continued. “The front of the sail is going to be right against the mast, which is going to interfere with windflow,” she explained.

“Can we do anything about that?” Ilia asked.

“We can. It’s a bit awkward, but given we’re probably not going to be turning through the wind again after this, I think it’s worth doing,” Pyrrha answered.

“Let’s do it then,” Sun said, hopping to his feet. “What do you need us to do?”

“Ilia, Weiss? I need you to help me with the ropes. Sun? Stay on the rudder and keep us going straight.” Sun nodded, sitting back down again, one hand on the rudder. He started fiddling with his compass as he waited for the others to finish.

Meanwhile, Pyrrha directed Ilia and Weiss to shorten or lengthen ropes as needed, whilst she manoeuvred the yard around. Whilst Weiss was carefully adjusting the ropes, she looked sharply at Pyrrha, frowning in confusion. One of the traits her faunus heritage had given her was the ability to sense magnetic fields. Whatever Pyrrha had just done had caused those fields to change, briefly but intensely.

Is that her semblance? Weiss mused. Her thoughts were interrupted as the ropes she was working on suddenly went slack, and she gave a quiet squeak as she rushed to catch up with Pyrrha’s instructions. Eventually, the yard had been rotated around the mast, the sail secured on the other side of the raft, ensuring the wind wouldn't blow the sail against the mast.

With the sail tacked around, they were underway once again. Getting to the second island and collecting a flag was much easier than the first, the team encountering nothing more threatening than a few beowolves. As they sailed along, they began pointing out local wildlife to pass the time.

“Turtle!” Sun excitedly called out, pointing at the large creature poking its head above the water for air before diving again.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of sea life along the coast,” Pyrrha said, smiling happily as she waved at the turtle. “If we’re lucky we might see some dolphins, or a shark,” she added, glancing across the water. As they steadily approached the third island, Ilia squinted into the distance.

“Is that the Carefree?” she asked, pointing at a far-off ship. The others turned to look, able to make out the ship’s three masts. Weiss quickly rooted through her bags, pulling out a telescope and peering through it.

“It’s the Carefree,” she confirmed. “Looks like they’re doing things with the boats,” she added.

“Captain Caspian said they’re doing search and rescue training. The small boats are important for the rescue part of that,” Pyrrha explained. “It’s good that they’re still doing training, it means none of our comrades have needed saving.”

Getting the third flag proved just as easy as the second. Which Weiss was extremely thankful for, as the heat was now seriously bothering her. She’d taken off her bolero and carefully folded it away in her bags, shielding herself from the sun’s glare with her wings as she drank greedily from her canteen.

The others were suffering as well, though not quite as badly as Weiss. Ilia had also taken off her jacket, and Pyrrha had joined Weiss in using her wings to cover herself in shade. Even Sun was starting to complain as he steered the raft towards the pick-up island.

“Ughhhh I just wanna jump in,” he groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Why is the air wet?”

“You’re from Vacuo, right?” Ilia asked. Sun nodded. “Yeah, I guess you don’t have a lot of experience with humidity out there. And yeah, humidity sucks,” she agreed.

“It’s just so sticky,” he grumbled. “You doing okay, Weiss?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“I’m okay,” Weiss replied. “I’d be less okay if this sort of heat was new to me. I feel sorry for the other students from Solitas.” Ilia grimaced sympathetically, remembering how she felt going from the cold of Solitas to the tropical regions of Anima. 

“Well, there should be some shade on the last island,” Pyrrha said encouragingly. “Too bad we can't get away from the Sun on this raft,” she then said, gesturing to Sun with a broad grin on her face. Weiss let out a small giggle at the joke. Sun blinked and then snorted with amusement, whilst Ilia just rolled her eyes.

Any response to Pyrrha’s joke was prevented by the high-pitched shriek of a flare. Immediately, the four of them were on their feet and scanning the skies. “There!” Ilia called out, pointing to a smoking red star rising into the air, a trail leading down to a raft.

Or, she realised as she raised a telescope, what was left of one. It looked to have split in two, the unbalanced sections now unsteady and precarious. Worse, Ilia spied several black fins circling the foundering watercraft. “There’s grimm in the water around them. Might be razormaws,” she said, grimacing.

Another, more distant, shriek sounded as a yellow flare fired from the Carefree, the ship altering course. “Are they going to be okay?” Sun asked, frowning in worry.

“If they stay out of the water they should be fine…” Pyrrha said, her voice grim. As if to punctuate her words, one half of the broken raft suddenly lurched, the two students on it barely holding on.

“We need to get over there,” Ilia said. “Weiss, you have air dust, right?” she asked. Weiss nodded, catching on quickly as she cycled Myrtenaster’s cylinder.

“I can give us propulsion,” she promised.

“Good. Pyrrha, see to the sails,” Ilia then ordered.

“On it,” Pyrrha replied, quickly adjusting the sails to make use of the tailwind Weiss was about to create.

“Sun, steer us so they’re on our”—she glanced at the sail to remind herself which side of the mast it was on—“left when we get to them.” Once Pyrrha had the sails set, Weiss activated her air dust, creating a gale behind the raft’s sail. The craft lurched slightly at the sudden increase in speed, and Ilia had to catch herself to avoid falling over.

“Can you make ice to hold their raft stable when we get there?” Ilia asked Weiss, keeping her eyes locked on the raft ahead of them.

“Of course,” Weiss answered confidently, eyes focussed on the point of Myrtenaster and the spiral of air emitting from it.

“Good. Once we get there we just need to keep the grimm occupied until the Carefree gets here,” she called to the others. With that, she turned her eyes back to the other raft, watching the students try in vain to lash the two halves back together.

Then a barbed tentacle rose from the water and lashed out, catching one of them in the chest and dragging them into the water. “Shit! Pyrrha!”

“I see them!” Pyrrha called, abandoning the ropes and sprinting forwards, spreading her wings and taking to the air. She flew close to the surface, eyes locked on the thrashing water where the other student had gone in. Her pike was held ready, poised to impale the first grimm she saw.

There. She lashed out, and was rewarded by a spray of black gore as the tip of her weapon punched into the side of a razormaw. She wrenched the tip free as she searched the foam for the student. After a few frantic seconds, she saw a pale, panicked face and a flailing arm. “Grab on!” she yelled down at them, her weapon extending as she held it out to them.

They grasped desperately for the weapon, managing to grab onto one of the streamers dangling from it. With a heave, Pyrrha lifted them, pumping her wings to gain altitude and pull them from the water. She’d almost lifted them free, but then one of the razormaws latched onto the student’s leg, drawing a pained scream before they started kicking at its nose with the other foot.

Pyrrha grit her teeth, continuing to lift them clear of the other grimm in the water. Soon enough one of the other students on the broken raft came to her aid, a gunshot splitting the air. The shot left a bloody crater in the razormaw’s belly, and its jaws released, dropping the grimm back below the waves.

A moment later, the other raft arrived. Ilia stood at the front, her weapon crackling with electricity as she lashed and stabbed at the razormaws ahead of the raft. As they drew alongside the other, stricken craft, Weiss switched from air dust to ice dust, waving Myrtenaster and creating a sheet of ice that anchored the two pieces of the craft in place.

With their raft slowing rapidly without Weiss’ gale to drive it, she, along with Sun and Ilia, leapt into action. She nimbly hopped from her raft onto the ice sheet, skewering a razormaw trapped by the rapidly-freezing sheet. Pyrrha carefully deposited the student she’d rescued by the broken raft before landing, taking stock of the situation.

The razormaws swarming around and below the ice sheet were a concern. More alarming, however, was the alpha; a much larger shark-like grimm sprouting four barbed tentacles from its back. Where the lesser grimm merely darted around with dim awareness of anything beyond the desire to feed, the alpha glared at her with a spark of bestial cunning.

“Alpha razormaw,” she said to the others.

Ilia nodded. “You lot keep the ones on your side occupied,” she called over to the other team before focussing on the grimm in front of her. “Any ideas?” she asked her team.

“Salt water is highly conductive,” Weiss pointed out, cycling Myrtenaster to lightning dust. “Maybe a strong enough shock will deal with the grimm. Or at least make them back off,” she suggested.

“Worth a shot,” Ilia agreed, surprised to find herself going along so easily with a Schnee’s idea. She flicked her rapier, electricity sparking along its length. “Sun, Pyrrha, keep us covered if the grimm try anything.” With that, Weiss and Ilia rushed to the edge of the ice sheet. The razormaws noticed their approach, starting to swarm ahead of them, some preparing to lunge out of the water.

A hail of shots from Sun ripped into the swarm before any of them could attack, throwing the grimm off long enough for Weiss and Ilia to strike. The two of them thrust the tips of their weapons into the water, activating the lightning dust with their auras. With a sharp crackle, electricity scoured the razormaw pack, killing five of the closest ones instantly and badly shocking many others.

The alpha gave a hateful shriek as it watched its pack being decimated, its four tentacles winding back for its own attack. Then, suddenly, it was reduced to a black smear across the waves as the sharp retort of a cannon firing filled the air. Ilia looked over, eyes widening as she saw the Carefree sailing towards them.

Thankfully, the crew of the frigate were already in the process of slowing the ship down. Most of her sails were already furled or turned so they weren’t catching the wind, and the stern gently shifted back and forth as the helmsman feathered the rudder.

“Ahoy there!” one of the crew called over the railing in Argosi as the Carefree slid to a near-complete halt next to the ice sheet. A ladder was thrown over the railing a moment later. “Come aboard, we’ll collect your rafts.”

“It looks like we have a good crop this year,” Keaton said as he looked over the array of screens on board the airship. “And only three rescue flares, with no medical emergencies,” he added happily, smiling.

“I agree, there’s a lot of potential to work with here, though we’ll still be sending one or two prospects home,” Caspian commented, taking a sip from her teacup. “Now, however, begins the prickly process of selecting our teams and team leaders. Some of them seem fairly obvious, others though…”

“Several groups that formed during initiation seem ideal to keep together,” Keaton agreed. “One in particular has caught my interest. Raft number eight.”

“Weiss Schnee, Pyrrha Nikos, Ilia Amitola, Sun Wukong,” Caspian murmured, humming thoughtfully. “They performed well together. Though the obvious question is who leads them.”

“Miss Nikos wouldn’t thank us for it,” Keaton opined. “She’s already got enough attention on her without adding a leadership role to that.”

“And whilst she was a boon to her team when it came to building and sailing the raft, she wasn’t offering much in the way of tactics or a course of action,” Caspian added.

“I also don’t think it should go to Mr. Wukong,” Keaton said. “It may invite allegations of nepotism, even if he is only barely related to you. And beyond that, I don’t believe he is suited to leading a team with those sorts of personalities present.”

“Agreed,” Caspian said, setting her teacup aside and steepling her fingers. “Which leaves us with Miss Schnee and Miss Amitola. Your thoughts?” she asked.

“Hm. Miss Amitola appears to have something of a chip on her shoulder when it comes to Miss Schnee. However, she was still able to work effectively with her, though Miss Nikos did have to act as a calming influence. Miss Amitola was also their primary source of effective tactics during initiation,” he mused.

“Miss Schnee provided a few herself, and suggested modifications to Miss Amitola’s plans when needed,” Caspian pointed out, before humming to herself. “Miss Amitola would likely resent having Miss Schnee as her leader. And vice versa, if Miss Schnee has taken offence to Miss Amitola’s barbs.”

“Miss Amitola’s sniping at Miss Schnee is a concern if we’re considering her for a leadership role,” Keaton agreed. “Whatever conflict the two have, Miss Amitola certainly began the clash during initiation. Not an easy choice,” he commented.

“In a situation like this, I imagine Ozpin would do his usual trick of picking the apparently least qualified of the bunch and somehow have it all work out,” Caspian said with an amused huff. “Unfortunately I don’t believe I’d be able to replicate his results.”

“Well, we don’t need to make the decision immediately,” Keaton reminded her. “There’s the post-initiation interviews yet. Under the circumstances, I’d like to interview Miss Amitola myself and see what I can glean from that.”

“Capital idea,” Caspian said with a nod. “Would you like to handle Miss Schnee’s as well? If not, I have a few questions of my own for her.”

“By all means, Captain,” Keaton said with a smile. “And we can compare notes afterwards. Now, raft number eleven.”

“Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, Neon Katt, and Emerald Sustrai. I believe the choice there is fairly obvious,” Caspian said.

“I agree. I think we should split raft numbers seven and fifteen…”

Chapter Text

Ilia fidgeted nervously as she waited outside Professor Keaton’s office. A row of chairs had been placed either side of the door, most of which were occupied by other students. Or hopeful students, at least. Just about everyone who had been called in had left in good spirits, one had left in tears, gently walked out by Professor Keaton himself.

“Miss Amitola?” She looked up sharply, trying to mask her worry as her name was called. Professor Keaton was leaning out of the door, looking at her expectantly. She nodded, gathering herself as she stood and followed him inside. Her first impression of the room was one of comfort. Professor Keaton’s office was warmly decorated and furnished, the walls panelled with dark wood and covered in framed photographs and shelves with various knick-knacks. 

Most were of Argoz and the surrounding area, but there were a few others that stood out. One was in the middle of the wall to Ilia’s right and depicted what she assumed to be the opening ceremony for Providence Academy. Next to that was a picture of a younger Keaton standing in front of Beacon Academy, with three other people Ilia didn’t recognise.

He still wore suits as an active hunter? Ilia wondered. Directly opposite the door was a broad window overlooking the city, through which Ilia could spy the Arsenal, the old naval academy, and a good number of other buildings that belonged to Providence Academy.

“Please, have a seat,” Keaton said with another of his friendly smiles. Ilia glanced at the offered chair, a plush armchair upholstered in slightly-worn leather, before settling into it. Keaton sat across from her in an office chair that looked no less comfortable. Between them was his desk, a broad, stately thing made of mahogany with a green leather top bordered in gold. Scattered across the top were a few curios along with office stationary and a substantial number of papers and other clutter.

“So, Miss Amitola,” he began after settling into his chair. “How do you feel initiation went?” he asked.

Ilia paused for a moment to consider her answer. “I think it went okay?” she answered. “I mean, we got all the flags, we built a pretty good raft, and we didn’t need saving. We fought that crab, and saved that other team as well,” she added.

“That you did. I think saying your team did very well is a fair assessment,” he agreed as he picked out a paper from his desk and looked it over. “And I was very impressed with your individual performance as well,” he added. “Applicants from outside the combat schools are always a bit of a gamble. You can never quite be sure everything they've put to paper is true, and you never know what they might have left out.”

Ilia fought back the impulse to swallow. There was a creeping sensation running up her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. “But in your case, the gamble paid off,” he continued. “You're clearly an experienced fighter. Very resourceful as well, with a great deal of survival experience and able to come up with tactics on the fly.” His eyes flicked from the paper to Ilia. “You must have led a hard life before coming to Argoz. It can be a lot harder for faunus outside the kingdoms as well." 

Ilia stiffened up as he said that. Keaton still wore his open, friendly expression. But behind that smile and his ever-so-slightly dishevelled suit, his eyes were sharp and incisive. Does he know? “It wasn’t easy,” Ilia managed to say, hiding her growing nervousness. “But we managed.”

“So you did,” Keaton said with a nod. “How would you describe your teamwork with the others during initiation?” he asked, the acute look in his eyes softening slightly, breaking the spell on her.

“Uhhh,” she started, trying to recover her wits. “I think we worked pretty well as a team. Pyrrha was a big help with the raft, Sun was easy to work with.”

“And Miss Schnee?” The keen look returned to his eyes. “There seemed to be a lot of friction between the two of you. And I would be hard-pressed if I had to argue that you didn’t instigate the conflict. Do you have a prior association with Miss Schnee before coming to Providence?”

“No, I’d never met her before initiation,” Ilia answered. 

Keaton considered that information before nodding. “I see. A dislike for her family, then? You’d hardly be the only one to harbour such feelings.” He let the silence hang for a moment or two. Ilia tried not to squirm in her chair. “Since their inception, the Academies have often been used as a sanctuary for those running from something. Fleeing a bad situation, wanting a fresh start, or atoning for past deeds.”

He knows. Or he suspects. Oh gods. This time, Ilia failed to stop herself from swallowing. What’s he going to do? Is he going to call the police, or try and arrest me? Her spine stiffened, legs tensing as she prepared to spring into action.

“Captain Caspian would like to continue that tradition. She’s a big fan of second chances.” Ilia blinked, pausing. “So long as the past remains there, it shouldn’t be a problem.” He smiled at her again, and Ilia cautiously began relaxing again.

“R-right,” she agreed. He’s… Not going to do anything about it?

“Good. Now, there’s a few more things we need to go over regarding the financial support available to you as well as a bit more administration to go over,” he said, as if he were blithely ignorant to the emotional rollercoaster he’d caused Ilia. “But before we get into all that, and to make it official; welcome to Providence Academy, Miss Amitola.”

Weiss swallowed, trying to keep herself from moving or fidgeting too much as she rode the lift up to Headmaster Caspian’s office. She supposed it made sense that the headmaster would conduct a share of the post-initiation interviews. She just hadn’t expected that share to include her.

She straightened her spine as the lift finally arrived, taking a deep breath. The doors opened with a chime, and she stepped out into the office. It wasn’t right at the top of the lighthouse, Weiss realised, but it was as close to the top as it could be without intruding upon the lantern room and the massive mechanisms within.

It was a broad, roughly circular space, decorated in much the same way as Providence’s auditorium. Marble formed the walls and floor of the room, the latter inlaid with a decorative chequerboard, with Providence’s sword-and-anchor sextant emblem in the very middle. Above her head, the vaulted ceiling was decorated like an old star chart, the sort navigators centuries ago would have used. Four large, arched windows were placed along the walls, one facing in each cardinal direction.

A large, antique globe with a shelf running around the equator sat close to the west-facing window, a small collection of chairs clustered near it with a coffee table between them. On the other side of the window to the globe, centred between the south and west windows, was a small table, on which perched a model ship in a bottle. The same ship featured in several of the photographs dotted around the walls.

Directly above the model ship, in a pair of glass-covered frames, were two flags. Both were worn and tattered, the colours slightly faded, but the designs were still clearly visible. The rightmost flag was divided vertically, the left side green and emblazoned with Mistral’s crest in red, whilst the right side was dark blue with Argoz’ crest in gold.

The leftmost flag was split diagonally from top-left to bottom-right, the upper portion solid black, the lower portion solid white. In the middle was a compass rose in brass, with a stylised swirl of wind in the centre of that.

The headmaster’s desk was directly opposite Weiss as she walked in, placed close to the wall between the north and east facing windows. The desk itself was massive, incorporating a map table into its construction, with the side closest to the wall most resembling a more usual desk. Though even that was grand and ornamented, as was the upholstered chair that sat behind it, and the bookshelf behind that which filled the space between the two windows.

Two items on or close to the desk caught Weiss’ eye. The first, resting on a spherical wooden stand, was Caspian’s hat. The second, directly behind the desk and hanging from the bookshelf from a peg, was her sword and scabbard.

“Good evening, Miss Schnee,” Caspian greeted her. She stood by the west-facing window, looking out onto the lagoon and towards the setting sun.

“Good evening, Headmaster,” Weiss replied with a polite nod. Caspian glanced over at her, returning the nod before gesturing to the collection of chairs by the window.

“Please, have a seat,” she said, gracefully sliding into a chair herself. As Weiss approached, she picked up a jug of water and poured herself a glass before tilting the jug towards Weiss with a questioning expression.

“Oh, yes please,” Weiss said as she sat down, smoothing out her skirt as she did so. Caspian poured a second glass for her and handed it to Weiss. “Thank you.” Weiss took a grateful sip.

“So, to avoid keeping you in any sort of suspense,” Caspian began, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Congratulations, Miss Schnee, on passing initiation.” Relief almost made Weiss’ posture slump. She hadn’t been seriously worried that she’d failed, but that anxiety had gnawed at her regardless.

“Thank you, headmaster,” Weiss said, smiling happily, her knee starting to bounce unconsciously.

“Before I can let you run off and cause whatever merry havoc students these days get up to, there are a few details we need to cover,” Caspian then said, her tone faintly amused. “Firstly, how do you think initiation went?”

“I think I performed well,” Weiss replied confidently. “There are, of course, a few points for improvement. I was… Unfamiliar with the finer points of boat construction, but my teammates were able to compensate for that deficiency.”

Odd way to phrase that, Caspian mused. “And how would you say you worked with your team?” she asked.

“I think we worked well together.” Her expression soured slightly. “Even though Ilia seems to have some absurd grudge against me,” she groused. Caspian nodded slowly.

“Myself and Mister Keaton did notice her vitriol towards you,” she granted. “I take it that you have no prior association with her?”

“None,” Weiss confirmed. “She probably has something against my family. A lot of people do.” Weiss’ voice quietened slightly as she said that, glancing out the window. Caspian tapped her finger against her glass, letting the silence linger for a moment.

“Do you have a plan for managing reactions like that in the future?” she asked.

“Not a plan as such,” Weiss answered, her knee continuing to bob back and forth. “If people have these preconceived notions about me, then that’s their problem. It only becomes my problem if they take that attitude out on me, at which point I will defend myself,” she said with a scowl.

Caspian hid a small grimace. As an answer, it was fair and reasonable. She’d had her fair share of dealing with people already prejudiced against her. She couldn’t fault Weiss for thinking like that, but it wasn’t the answer she wanted from a possible leader. 

“I can empathise with that,” Caspian replied before taking a sip of her glass. “Well, we’ve already established that your performance during initiation was satisfactory. However, given you were trained privately instead of at a combat school, I need to ask who provided your training.”

“Oh, my sister, Winter,” Weiss said, her tone brightening as she looked back at Caspian. “As well as a few other tutors. I’d need to ask her for a full list of their names, though.”

“Quite the jump to go from private tutoring to an academy,” Caspian pointed out, the obvious question left unsaid.

“Someone has to redeem the family name,” Weiss replied simply. “I… It’s irritating when people have a distorted idea about me before they’ve even met me, but it’s still true that Jacques used the Schnee name to hurt a lot of people.”

“I see. On the topic of people Jacques hurt…” she began carefully, studying Weiss’ reaction. Weiss stiffened slightly, her wings twitching on her back. “We don’t need to go over the exact details, but I feel I should ask what sort of support you’ve gotten since the event.”

“... Support?” Weiss asked, tilting her head slightly.

Oh no, Caspian thought. “Therapy, counselling, that sort of thing.”

“Oh… Um, none. I mean, Klein and my sister talked to me a lot about what happened, but…” She tailed off, glancing down at the table, her knee falling still as she finally noticed it moving.

“Well, Providence has plenty of resources to offer should you need them,” Caspian said.

“So… I heard you refer to Captain Caspian as ‘auntie’ after her welcome speech?” Keaton asked, looking across his desk at Sun.

“Eheh…” Sun laughed nervously. “I mean, she is, sorta,” he said.

“Yes, her sister being married to your father’s step-brother,” Keaton said without a trace of irony. “Is that part of why you picked Providence Academy?” he asked.

“Kind of?” Sun answered uncertainly. “I mean, definitely not the main reason. Or even one of the main reasons. Argoz is really cool,” he said, glancing out the office window.

“You use the local name?” Keaton asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Uh huh! Pyrrha explained why we shouldn’t call it ‘Argus’,” Sun explained.

“I see,” Keaton said, smiling. “Speaking of Pyrrha, what is your impression of the three you worked with during initiation?”

“They seem cool! Pyrrha’s pretty friendly, and I think she’s a clown? Weiss was a bit closed-off but I can tell she’s really nice under that. Ilia was a bit mean to her as well,” he commented, frowning. “But Pyrrha kept them from fighting. I think Ilia’s going through some stuff.”

“And how do you think they performed?” Keaton asked curiously.

“They did great! I mean, Ilia came up with most of the ideas, but Weiss had some good ideas as well. And Pyrrha was the best with the raft.”

“And what do you think you contributed to the team?” he queried.

“Uhh, emotional support?” he joked. “I mean, I helped out building the raft, I fought things. The others had the rest handled, I just helped where they needed me,” he answered.

“I see.”

“So, with your qualifications you could surely have had your pick of any academy on Remnant,” Caspian observed, sipping her water. “What made you pick Providence over an older, more established academy, Miss Nikos?” she asked.

“Well, there’s the obvious fact that Argoz is my home,” Pyrrha began. “But beyond that… I don’t think I would have coped well with Atlas’ more militaristic approach. And I wouldn’t have enjoyed Shade. It’s a long way from the sea, and Vacuo doesn’t take kindly to outsiders, from what I’ve heard,” she continued.

“As for Haven…” It was well-hidden, but Caspian caught the brief flash of distaste that crossed Pyrrha’s features. “I don’t like the way Mistral’s tried to claim ownership of me in the past, during the tournaments,” she explained.

“You’re referring to your ‘Jester of Mistral’ moniker?” Caspian asked.

“I am. And going to Haven would have felt too much like… Surrendering isn’t the right word…”

“Too much like kneeling before the throne?” Caspian suggested.

Pyrrha nodded. “Yes, that. Mistral has always acted like I’m one of theirs, despite their routinely terrible treatment of people like me, and I didn’t want to do anything to give that notion any credibility.”

“And Beacon?” Caspian prompted, keeping her own frustrations at Mistral quelled for now.

“Beacon was actually my second choice,” Pyrrha said, smiling. “I think I would have enjoyed Vale as well, and attending Beacon certainly wouldn’t have given the same impression as attending Mistral. But, ultimately, Argoz is my home. That, and…” She hesitated. “Maybe it’s a bit spiteful, but picking Providence was very satisfying after how hard Mistral tried to claim me as one of theirs,” she admitted.

Caspian gave an amused huff at that. “Well, what can I say after that other than ‘welcome to Providence’?” she joked. Pyrrha beamed happily at her, her wings flicking.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” she said, ducking her head gratefully.

“Well, you impressed us all during initiation,” Caspian said. “As did your whole team. What do you think was the key to your success?”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha hummed thoughtfully. “At the risk of giving a rather obvious answer, I’d say our teamwork,” she replied. “Especially when it came to combining our respective talents. Ilia was very quick to come up with tactics that utilised our abilities well, and Weiss managed to improvise within those plans to improve their effectiveness, and provided excellent knowledge about individual grimm. Sun was good at cooperating with the rest of us as well.”

“I see. Thank you, Miss Nikos, for that enlightening answer…”

“Nora Valkyrie. Lie Ren. Neon Katt. Emerald Sustrai.” Pyrrha watched from the crowd as four more students were called up to the stage. She recognised them from the initiation speech Caspian gave. Nora and Neon both wore broad smiles, whilst Ren looked neutral and Emerald looked nervous.

“The four of you will form Team Valkyrie,” Caspian declared, the screen behind the stage lighting up with each of their faces, four letters spelling out VLKE. “Led by Nora Valkyrie.”

Nora let out a triumphant yell, leaping into the air with joy. Beside her, Ren went slightly pale. As did Emerald, whilst Neon barked out a laugh. After Nora calmed down a little, Caspian stepped closer to shake her hand, before moving down the line and shaking hands with each one in turn. After that, the four left the stage, and Caspian moved back to the microphone stand.

“Ilia Amitola. Weiss Schnee. Sun Wukong. Pyrrha Nikos.” Pyrrha took a breath before following behind the other three who had been called. She’d already guessed she’d be on a team with them. From what she understood, it was rare for Providence to change the teams that formed during initiation, and they’d worked well enough together to make keeping them together a sensible choice regardless.

“The four of you will form Team Icing,” Caspian said. Pyrrha glanced up at the screen, seeing the name ‘ISSN’ spelt out below pictures of their faces.

A bit of a reach, she mused briefly, before her attention was drawn back to Caspian.

“Led by Ilia Amitola.” Pyrrha smiled, glancing down the line of students. Weiss had turned to look at Ilia, meaning Pyrrha couldn’t see her expression. Sun was just smiling happily, whilst Ilia looked stunned.

That stunned look remained as Caspian walked over, looking wide-eyed into the middle distance as she shook her hand. “Congratulations,” Pyrrha overheard Caspian say to her, before moving to shake Weiss’. Pyrrha couldn’t tell if the neutral look on Weiss’ face was forced or not, but she seemed calm enough at the announcement.

As Caspian got to her, Pyrrha gave her a firm handshake. Caspian made eye contact with her, and gave her a small nod, before returning to the microphone. Pyrrha followed behind her new team, considering the implications of what lay in store for her.

Chapter Text

Once the last of the new teams filed off the stage, Caspian took centre stage once again, clearing her throat before speaking. “All newly announced team leaders, come with me. We have some matters to discuss briefly.” With that, she walked to the base of the staircase, and waited.

Ilia glanced at where her new team were loosely clustered. Both Pyrrha and Sun had congratulated her, whilst Weiss hadn’t said a word, simply nodding once to her instead. Frowning slightly, Ilia turned and made her way over to where Caspian was waiting, the other new leaders filtering towards her as well.

Once they were gathered, Caspian led them into the hallway beyond the double doors at the top of the stairs. There, she stopped and turned to face the small crowd, casting an appraising eye over them before speaking.

“First, allow me to once again offer my congratulations,” Caspian began. “It is no small thing to have been chosen to lead a team of student hunters, and reflects well on your performance during initiation.” As she saw a few of them grin confidently, nudging one another and generally act in good spirits, her eyes hardened.

“However,” she said firmly, drawing the full attention of the group again. “This is not a responsibility to be taken lightly. The eyes of Providence are on you. You must prove that you are capable leaders. You and your teams will be faced with life-or-death situations, and it is up to you to ensure your team’s survival.”

That thought seemed to temper some of the group’s enthusiasm. For Ilia, this wasn’t a new idea. She’d led one or two raids towards the end of her time with the White Fang. “It is a heavy burden, and one that must be carried with great care. Fail to perform, and you will be replaced as team leader. The grimm, along with others out there who’d like to see you dead, will not give you a second chance if you make a mistake in the field.”

Caspian took another moment to look the group over. “That is all.” With that, Caspian turned on her heel and marched away from the newly-minted leaders, leaving a wake of renewed caution behind her.

“... Is it just me, or did that feel more like a threat than anything else?” Nora asked, once she was sure Caspian was out of earshot.

“I think more of a warning,” Ilia commented. “I guess we’ll just have to avoid failing.”

Back in the auditorium proper, Neon was glancing around trying to find her team. After Nora left with the other new leaders, she’d lost track of Ren and Emerald. She weaved through the crowd, lazily gliding on her roller skates, head swivelling back and forth as she looked for them

She quickly found them again, huddled in one corner, and skated over to them. “Hey you two! What’s— Wah!” she cried as Emerald grabbed her suddenly and pulled her into the huddle.

“Shh!” Emerald urgently hissed. “Keep your voice down.” Neon blinked, studying Emerald’s expression. She looked nervous in a frantic sort of way, glancing over at the doorway the team leaders had disappeared through.

“... What’s going on?” Neon asked, keeping her voice low.

“Emergency team meeting,” Ren said gravely. Emerald nodded, equally solemn.

“Emergency..?” Neon questioned, becoming more and more lost by the moment.

“Yes. The emergency is that Nora is team leader,” Emerald explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“... She seemed to do pretty well in initiation,” Neon pointed out, blinking slowly.

“She did,” Ren agreed. “Which is why she isn’t a bad choice for leader. When she needs to be serious and focussed, she performs very well, and acts decisively.”

“She’s great at looking out for people as well, it’s like second nature to her,” Emerald added.

“So… What’s the problem?” Neon asked, looking between the two like they’d both grown an extra head.

“The problem is what happens when she doesn’t need to be serious,” Ren answered.

“What’s the problem with not being serious when you don’t need to?” Neon challenged, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“The problem is Nora is extremely excitable,” Emerald replied. “And has very poor impulse control. Left to her own devices, we’ll find ourselves signed up for every single extracurricular activity she decides sounds ‘fun’.”

“She’ll probably have some fixation on us being the ‘best’ team,” Ren added.

“So… It’s not that she’s gonna be bad, she just needs some reigning in?” Neon surmised, glancing between the two again.

“Correct,” Ren confirmed.

“Nora’s a great friend, but… Yeah, left unrestrained she is a force of chaos,” Emerald added. 

Neon nodded slowly, puzzling over what Ren and Emerald said. “Right… Well, maybe we could—”

“Hey guys, what’s going on?!” Nora asked, suddenly appearing beside Neon with a broad grin.

Emerald screamed.

“Woah, these dorms are pretty cushy!” Sun exclaimed, glancing around the communal space of Team ISSN’s dorms. The hunter student dorms were part of the old naval academy building, converted from the former officers’ quarters. Each team had a set of rooms, consisting of a bedroom for each student and a shared communal space linking the four, as well as a shared bathroom.

“They are pleasantly spacious,” Weiss agreed, moving yet more of her luggage into the room she’d claimed for herself. “I was worried that, given the headmaster’s military career, we’d be given something more akin to a barracks.”

“From what I’ve heard, Captain Caspian doesn’t run things in a very military-esque manner,” Pyrrha observed, hefting a trunk onto her shoulder and carrying it into her room, missing the look the show of strength got from Weiss. “Such as the lack of an academy uniform,” she added as she walked back into the main room.

“Mm…” Ilia hummed, still trying to process everything that had happened over the last few days. Becoming team leader isn’t exactly keeping a low profile… She frowned as she looked down, trying to think about how she’d deal with the White Fang discovering where she’d run to.

Her worried musings were ended by the gentle rap of knuckles against her head. “Shave-and-a-hair-cut,” Pyrrha said, tapping Ilia’s head in time to the tune. “Something on your mind?” she asked.

“Uhhh,” Ilia uttered, trying to regain control of her train of thought as she looked up at Pyrrha. “Just… Adjusting, I guess?” Pyrrha nodded, and then both of them turned to look at the open door to Weiss’ room as something beeped rapidly, followed by a sigh of relief.

“Weiss?” Pyrrha asked, her, Sun, and Ilia approaching the door and peering in. Pyrrha smirked, stifling a laugh at the sight of Weiss standing right by her room’s air conditioning unit, wings outstretched with the unit turned to the lowest temperature setting.

“You’re gonna have to get used to the heat eventually, you know,” Sun pointed out, grinning as well.

“You all come to the Solitas tundra and see how you cope,” Weiss shot back, though any bite was negated by the lax, mollified tone of her voice. Still, Ilia had to restrain the instinct to fire back with her own history.

“So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Pyrrha asked. “With classes starting and all that.”

“We’ve all got history first,” Weiss answered, without having to look at her planner. “After that is the ‘Local Threat Primer’ given by Headmaster Caspian. Then… I think we have geography?” she asked, sounding less certain.

“That sounds right,” Ilia said. “Gonna be weird actually going to school again…” she mused.

“It’ll be an adjustment from one-on-one tuition,” Weiss agreed, humming thoughtfully.

“Well, I hope you all pay attention during history,” Pyrrha said, smiling. “Well, you should pay attention to all our classes, but… A lot of Argosi history gets wildly misrepresented by Mistral, and that leads to a lot of incorrect information being passed around outside the kingdom,” she explained.

“Mistral gets Argosi history wrong? Why?” Sun asked, blinking.

“Do you remember when I mentioned ‘unhappy reasons’ after you asked about why Mistral calls it ‘Argus’?” Pyrrha asked him.

“Yeah? Why— Ohh, more stuff we’ll learn about in history class?” he guessed.

“Correct,” Pyrrha said with a nod. “If you’re going to be living and studying, and perhaps even working, here, it’s important to hear our perspective on events,” she explained.

“Makes sense,” Sun agreed. “I know Vacuo gets a bad rep in some of the other kingdoms.”

“My history tutors didn’t take the kindest view on Vacuo,” Weiss confirmed, walking over to one of her bags and collecting a towel and a washbag. To Ilia’s slightly incredulous amusement, both were white and featured the Schnee snowflake emblem in blue. Before anyone could say anything more, Weiss darted to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower,” she announced, disappearing inside.

“... Dibs next,” Sun declared.

The next day brought Providence Academy’s first day of classes of the school year. The dining hall was packed with students, and thanks to Providence going without a uniform policy, it was a riot of colours. Many on the hunter course simply opted to wear their hunting outfits, often with outer layers shed to help deal with the warmth of the Argoz climate. Others instead wore civilian clothes.

Pyrrha Nikos was in that latter category, though her casual outfits kept to her usual aesthetic. She wore a loose, airy, bright yellow shirt with the top few buttons undone, along with a pair of high-waisted trousers with vertical red and black stripes that left her ankles bare. 

Her feet were clad in green converses, decorated on the outside with her emblem; a red diamond overlaid with a gold jester’s hat on a stick. And to complete the outfit, she had her ‘casual’ makeup on, with the gold diamond over her right eye, green eyeshadow around her left, and the vivid red lipstick.

Weiss was also wearing something other than her combat outfit, consisting of a short dress similar to the one she’d worn during initiation, though lighter in construction. She was still wearing high heels, though these were shoes as opposed to her long boots. She also had no coat or jacket, leaving her shoulders bare, and a stylish white sun hat with a blue ribbon rested on the table beside her. She wore a light bit of makeup to round things out, along with a small pendant around her neck. Cute outfit, Pyrrha thought.

Across the table from Pyrrha was Sun, wearing his normal outfit and squinting at her as he munched on a slice of toast. Pyrrha met his stare with an eyebrow raised in puzzled amusement. “Something on your mind, Sun?” she asked.

“I’m trying to figure out if that outfit counts as ‘pirate’ as well as ‘clown’,” he said seriously before taking another bite of toast.

“Well, Argoz is known for its naval history,” Pyrrha mused idly. “Maybe I could be a pirate clown. I’m sure I could come up with a routine involving all the rigging.” She paused, blinking. “The whole ‘walking the plank’ idea has got a lot of slapstick potential, actually…” she said thoughtfully.

“Wait, you do routines as well? You don’t just dress like a clown?” Sun asked. 

“Yep!” Pyrrha confirmed, grinning. “I performed with the Circo di Argoz, doing acrobatics and trapeze work as well as knife throwing, juggling, and a bit of a comedy routine mixed in. Slapstick, prop gags, that sort of thing. I’m hoping I’ll be able to go back and perform between academic years.”

“That’s cool!” Sun exclaimed, matching Pyrrha’s grin.

“How did you end up in the circus and fighting in tournaments at the same time?” Ilia asked curiously.

“When I started doing combat training, I also took gymnastics lessons to help with overall flexibility and athleticism,” Pyrrha began explaining. “I found I enjoyed it beyond just a training aid. At the same time, I was learning more about Argoz’s history and culture, and how important performance arts are to it. From there, I began looking into performing groups, and eventually made my way up to the circus itself.”

“So, why a clown?” Ilia asked, tilting her head.

“I like making people laugh,” Pyrrha answered simply, smiling. “The aesthetic is a lot of fun as well. Hence…” She gestured to her outfit and makeup. “The Commedia dell'Arte was a big inspiration for it all. It’s why people around Argoz call me ‘Arlecchina’.”

“Makes sense, making people laugh is always fun,” Sun said, grinning.

“It is!” Pyrrha agreed, before quickly finishing her breakfast. “What isn’t fun is being late. We should finish up quickly. Class is starting soon,” she reminded them all.

Chapter Text

As she sat in Providence Academy’s history lecture hall, Pyrrha found herself idly wondering if owning a hat was a requirement for the teaching staff there. The hat that had prompted this question was a brown fedora-style hat with a wide brim, currently resting on a cluttered desk at the front of the room.

Behind the desk and writing on the board was the hat’s owner, Professor Diana Evans. She was a tall fox faunus with tanned skin and red hair, an instantly recognisable bushy tail with a white tip flicking back and forth behind her. A matching pair of ears projected outwards from where a human’s would be, swivelling backwards to listen to the quiet murmurs in the room.

“So!” she declared, turning on her heel to face the room with a broad grin, bright blue eyes twinkling. She was dressed fairly simply in a sturdy pair of khaki trousers and a faded purple button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves. “Welcome to History 101! Now, I’m sure some of you, especially the hunter students, are wondering why this is a mandatory class for all first-years.

“The reason for that is pretty simple! History’s very important, and the rest of Remnant gets Argosi history wrong,” Evans continued, her grin still in place. “This class will cover general Remnant history as well, but it will primarily be focussed on Argoz, since that’s where you’re studying.

“So, let’s go over a quick refresher of Argosi history! The city itself has existed for over a thousand years, but the Argosi Republic first emerged in a recognisable form almost eight hundred years ago with the founding of the Maggior Consiglio, or ‘Great Council’. This council was a governing body formed from representatives of four hundred land-holding families from the city.

“Over time, the exact form the Argosi government took changed,” Evans said, turning to the board and sketching out a rough timeline, showing transitions of power and changes in government. “But the principle largely remained the same; a plutocratic democracy in which voting power resided with the wealthy.”

Becoming aware of a constant, light thudding noise beside her, Pyrrha glanced to her left. Directly next to her was Sun, who was half paying attention to the lecture. Pyrrha frowned briefly at the inattentiveness of her teammate, but looked past him for the moment. Beyond him, sitting at the end of the row of seats, was the source of the noise, Weiss Schnee. 

Her gaze was fixed on her notebook, scribbling away in it. Her heel, however, was constantly tapping, her knee bouncing rapidly. Weiss didn’t seem aware of the motion, nor of the other parts of her that seemed incapable of holding still, such as her twitching wings. Pyrrha tilted her head slightly, before returning her attention to the lecture.

“The founding of the Great Council brought Argoz and some of the surrounding settlements under a single authority. The next century was marked by Argoz’ rapidly expanding sphere of influence. More settlements, ranging from villages to other cities, were brought under the Great Council’s control by diplomacy and conquest…”

“What was largely considered to be the most significant of these cities?” Pyrrha asked Sun. After the first couple of classes, Team ISSN had gathered for their first study session. A session Pyrrha had quickly put to use quizzing Sun on how much he’d actually managed to absorb during their first history class.

The spot they’d chosen was in the so-called ‘University Library’, a building that had served the Università di Argoz before it had become Providence Academy. Despite the change, the library retained its old name. And it was an old name, the library having been built even before Argoz became a republic.

The interior of the building made no secret of its age. The interior had often been likened to a cathedral, and whilst most of the rooms weren’t quite on that scale, Pyrrha had to grant that the comparison was not without merit. The ceilings were vaulted, many of them decorated with gorgeous frescoes. The walls were lined with polished dark wood bookshelves, trimmed with gold leaf designs.

The corner Team ISSN had claimed for their session was no different, though with a lower ceiling than the main halls. The desks and chairs were newer, though still in-keeping with the library’s aesthetic.

“Uhhh…” Sun uttered, slightly wide-eyed as he scrambled for an answer. “Pass,” he eventually said, grinning nervously. For Sun, there was something incongruous about Pyrrha lecturing him on history, given the bright, elaborate makeup she was wearing and her ‘clown-pirate’ outfit.

“Collento,” Pyrrha informed him. “Famous for its extraordinarily plentiful gold and silver mines. Collento joined the growing Republic of Argoz peacefully, securing a considerable amount of influence within the Great Council despite prior conflicts between the two cities. The wealth created by Collento’s mines paid for the first of the vast fleets built by Argoz, which enabled the republic’s dominance over the seas and sprawling river systems.”

“Whilst Argoz had been a major player in the region before the unification with Collento,” Pyrrha continued, “this is when the republic became the naval power it remains famous for being. Argoz’ new fleets allowed it to control the sea lanes between Sanus, Anima, and later even as far north as Solitas.”

“Right, right, I got that part,” Sun said with a nod. “Basically started being pirate-merchants.”

“Correct,” Pyrrha confirmed. As much as she loved her home, she wasn’t blinded by patriotism like some were, and she had to admit that Argoz had plenty of blood in its past.

“I can see what Evans meant about other nations getting Argosi history wrong,” Ilia commented as she leafed through her textbook. “I remember being taught that the Republic of Argoz established itself through wanton bloodshed and conquered all of its neighbour city-states.”

“I mean, there was some bloodshed, but no worse than any other nation-state of that era,” Pyrrha said.

“Didn’t Argoz trade in slaves? Like, the whole galley slave thing?” Sun asked, starting to quickly flick through his book.

“Everyone traded in slaves,” Weiss countered, idly tapping her fingers against the desk. “Argoz was hardly unique in that.” She paused, then added, “the galley slave thing is a myth, by the way. It did happen rarely, but it was far from the norm.”

“And Argoz was one of the first to outlaw slavery. Not that that absolves them of any guilt,” Pyrrha quickly added. “However, when you consider that it took the Great War for Mantle and Mistral to stop using slave labour, and the fact that Argoz outlawed it four hundred years ago. And the fact that the Navy of the Republic of Argoz was engaged in suppressing the slave trade for those four hundred years…”

“Right,” Sun said, nodding. “Guess every country’s a bit shit?” he offered.

Ilia gave an amused snort at that. “Yeah, basically. And they all lie about how shit they were and how shit everyone else was.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing at the others. “To try and make the world a little less shit?”

“Well, we’ve all got our own reasons, but I suppose in the end they all come back to that,” Weiss acknowledged, lifting her head to smile at him. “Speaking of making the world less terrible, we should think about leaving soon. Headmaster Caspian’s lecture is going to be starting soon.”

“Good afternoon, neophytes,” Caspian greeted the assembled students, smirking as she did so. She was standing on the stage of one of Providence’s lecture halls, this one outfitted with a number of large displays. In the tiered seating surrounding the stage like an amphitheatre were the academy’s first-year hunter students.

“Today we will be briefly going over some of the threats you’ll be expected to confront during your time at my academy, and in your future careers if you work in and around Argoz,” she continued. “We won’t go into too much detail here, since that’s what Grimm Studies and other classes are for. Think of this as more of a primer.

“With that said, let’s begin.” She pressed a remote in her hand, and the screens flickered on, showing an array of aquatic grimm. “One of the biggest problems you’ll encounter will be fighting grimm out on the water. Grimm like razormaws or tusoteus aren’t, strictly, any stronger than common land-dwelling grimm.

“The problem comes from the environment you find them in. Unless you’re an aquatic faunus, you will be at a serious disadvantage in the water. You will be slower both in terms of movement and attacking, many types of dust will be markedly less effective or more hazardous to use in the water, and if you are submerged you will be unable to breathe,” she cautioned the assembled students, pacing back and forth on the stage.

“If you ever find yourself in the water facing aquatic grimm, your first priority should always be to leave the water as quickly as possible. And keep in mind that just because a grimm is classified as ‘aquatic’ doesn’t stop it from being dangerous out of the water.” She pressed another button, and some footage from initiation played. 

Ilia felt a brief surge of pride as she saw her team’s fight against the karkinos. She spotted Team VLKE fighting something that looked like a giant jellyfish, and a few other teams’ fights against a variety of other grimm. “I’ve seen too many people blindsided by a grimm leaping onto the deck, or grabbing them with tentacles. Don’t let it happen to you,” she warned.

A sharp intake of breath caused Ilia to glance to her left. In the seat next to her was Weiss. She’d dropped her pen on her desk, and was covering her left eye with that hand, her right eye screwed shut. Her lips were pressed in a tight line, her brow furrowed in a pained grimace. 

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Weiss straightened her back and lowered her hand, schooling her expression back to neutral. Ilia could just about make out a small twitch in her left eye, Weiss’ hand shaking a little as she picked her pen back up. Ilia frowned slightly. Part of her wanted to question Weiss about it. As a team leader, I should try offering help, right? she thought.

Another, bitter part of her decided the Schnee could deal with whatever was bothering her by herself. She hesitated, torn between the two options. As Weiss began turning her head towards her, Ilia lost her nerve, instead looking back down at Caspian as she continued speaking.

“Grimm Studies will cover specific tactics to employ with specific grimm, so we won’t linger too long on them here. But, as a general note, lightning dust, underwater explosions, and piercing weapons work well most of the time. Just be careful with those first two around allies and noncombatants,” Caspian cautioned them.

“Unfortunately, grimm won’t be the only thing you need to worry about,” she added, pressing the remote again. This time, instead of grimm, the screens showed a number of ships, their sails patched frequently, flying a variety of flags. Many were typical ‘jolly roger’ designs, skulls and skeletons on red or black fields.

Others, which caught Ilia’s attention, featured grimm masks or grimm in their entirety, sometimes with human skeletons alongside them, and almost always on red fields. One that stood out from the rest was a circular glyph in purple, the outer border segmented with the inner ring solid. A stylised eye marked the middle of the design, with curved lines radiating out from it.

Ilia frowned, then glanced at Weiss again. That kinda looks like..? Judging by Weiss’ puzzled look and tilt of her head, she’d made the connection as well. There were differences, of course, but there was something about the design that reminded Ilia of the Schnee emblem and Weiss’ glyphs.

“Any hunter will have to deal with human and faunus foes in their career,” Caspian explained. “In Argoz, we get the lovely job of dealing with the worst scum of Remnant.” Sarcasm dripped from her words, even as she kept a broad grin on her face. “The lowest of the low, the pinnacle of villainy. A deplorable, reprehensible parcel of bandits, slavers, murderers, and worse, bad enough to be declared hostis humani generis.

“I am talking, of course, about pirates.” There was something about the way she said that word. The unmistakable venom with which it was uttered left no doubts about Captain Caspian’s opinion of that particular group. “Piracy is a problem that continues to plague Remnant, and especially the area around Argoz. 

“Frequently-travelled shipping lanes and the sheer number of islands make the waters surrounding Argoz a favourite for pirates, despite our best efforts over the centuries. As hunters, it will frequently fall to you to deal with the problem, and it is paramount that you are properly prepared.

“A pirate will fight harder and more viciously than any bandit or common crook. These petty criminals know that, if all else fails, the worst they’ll get is a trial and a prison cell. Pirates, however…” Caspian pressed her remote, and the image of a set of gallows appeared on the main screen, causing a wave of whispers across the room. “Pirates know that all that awaits them is a short drop, and a sudden stop.” Caspian paused, letting that grim idea linger for a moment. 

Ilia swallowed, a sudden sick feeling stirring in her stomach. She knew the White Fang sometimes raided ships around the continent of Anima, and briefly wondered how many of them had died at the end of a noose thanks to Caspian’s efforts.

Beside her, Pyrrha turned to look at her, frowning as she saw that her face was a little paler. She gently nudged Ilia’s shoulder, causing the shorter girl to look at her. “Are you okay?” Pyrrha asked her quietly.

“Ahh…” Ilia uttered, scrambling to come up with an answer that wouldn’t cause Pyrrha to become suspicious of her. Pyrrha glanced at the picture of the gallows before looking back at Ilia.

“It’s a morbid idea, isn’t it?” she asked sympathetically. Ilia nodded, seizing on the lifeline Pyrrha had unknowingly given her. “Yeah. Growing up in Argoz, I guess you get used to the idea. We can talk about it later, if you want?” she offered.

“... Maybe,” Ilia deflected. Pyrrha just nodded, giving her an understanding smile before looking back at the stage.

“The three most likely situations you’ll encounter pirates,” Caspian continued, “will be during raids on known or suspected hideouts, guarding merchant and passenger ships, and if they show up during a rescue attempt of a stricken or floundering ship. Obviously, in the first case the main goal is to kill or capture as many as we can.

“In the second two cases, the safety of any civilians present is the priority, and your goal should be to drive them off. If they flee, don’t pursue. This is where the different flags become important,” Caspian continued, gesturing at the different coloured flags. “A black flag means ‘quarter given’. 

“What that means is that the pirates will leave the crew alive, uninjured, and allow them to leave with their ship if they surrender their cargo without a fight. As incongruous as it might seem to believe a promise from a pirate, they can be taken at their word in this instance. If they can take the valuables they want without a fight, that’s a good deal for them. 

“Sometimes, the captain of a ship you’re hired to protect will decide to surrender. If they do, it’s best to go along with it, otherwise you endanger the crew. Speaking of which, a red flag is something of a ‘final warning’. It means that no quarter will be given if the pirates use force to take the ship’s cargo. That means they’ll be trying to kill you, and take any survivors as slaves or hostages. If you see a red flag and a battle is forced… Show no mercy, because they won’t,” Caspian warned them.

“I… I didn’t think we’d need to kill people,” Sun admitted quietly. “I mean, I knew fighting would be part of it, but…”

“The role of a hunter is to protect people,” Weiss pointed out. “Sometimes, that means protecting them from other people. If pirates are trying to kill people, or enslave them… Then they deserve what’s coming to them,” Weiss opined, a bitter note to her voice. Ilia bit back a snide reply to that, before a flash of motion caught her eye. A few rows in front of her, Neon had raised her hand and begun waving it.

“You have a question, Miss Katt?” Caspian asked, looking at her.

“Yeah, what’s the deal with the flags with the grimm or the creepy symbols on them?” Neon asked, pointing towards the one with the glyph that had captured Ilia’s curiosity earlier.

“Ah, those,” Caspian said, looking at where she was pointing. “For whatever reason, some of the pirate crews and bandit groups are worshippers of grimm. Be extremely cautious should you ever see a flag bearing a grimm or a sigil like these. I expect you can all imagine why extra care should be taken around those who see the creatures of grimm as something worthy of prayer.”

“Weiss…” Pyrrha began cautiously as the lecture ended and students began filing out.

“Yes, Pyrrha?” Weiss asked, blinking and looking up at her.

“During the lecture, you seemed to be in pain,” she observed, gesturing to her own eye. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Oh. I’m fine,” Weiss assured her. Ilia looked over, frowning quizzically.

That didn’t look okay, she thought.

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha pressed gently, a concerned look on her face.

“Mhm,” Weiss hummed with a nod. “Just…” She hesitated, eyes darting to the side before looking at Pyrrha again. “My scar hurts sometimes,” she eventually admitted. “Not often, but…”

“How did you get it, by the way?” Sun asked innocently. “It looks cool.”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Weiss said, a little sharply, causing Sun to recoil slightly. Over Weiss’ head, Ilia caught Sun’s eye and shook her head slightly, motioning for him to drop it.

Why are you doing that? she immediately questioned herself. Why are you trying to protect her? Don’t tell me it’s because she’s pretty. Pyrrha had apparently noticed the look Ilia gave Sun as well, and glanced at her curiously before looking back at Weiss.

“Alright, we don’t have to talk about it. We should get going, though. Don’t want to be late for the next lecture,” Pyrrha pointed out, giving her a friendly smile. Weiss nodded silently, blushing a little at the smile.

“R-right, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Peregrine Hearst sighed as she browsed the CCT-net on her laptop, her other hand tapping idly on her desk. Come on, just need one more piece for the paper, she thought, frowning slightly. Maybe an article on Providence? What would I do, though, she mused. She idled for a second, before flipping over to the blog she ran focussing on hunter students at the various academies to look for inspiration. Following the links to various social media sites she’d saved there, she began flicking through posts and pictures. 

That’s a cute outfit. So’s that one. Maybe a nice little article on hunter fashion? She blinked as she saw a picture posted by the handle ‘WukongForever’, featuring a grinning blond student with his shirt undone, taking a selfie with an immediately recognisable woman, standing next to him with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised. The pair were standing on the deck of a ship, sailors in cyan uniforms milling around behind them.

Oh shit, Weiss Schnee’s at Providence? Peregrine thought. That’s definitely worth running an article on. What else do we have? Cute outfit, cute outfit, clown— Clown? She scrolled back up, her eyes widening. It was another post by this ‘Wukong’, evidently a student at Providence. And it was impossible to miss exactly who he was posing with. Oh shit that’s Nikos. 

Quickly, she searched to see if anyone else had run an article on this yet. Oh shit, is this my scoop? She scrambled, one arm flailing briefly before she managed to grab her scroll, paging through until she reached the number of her editor at the Argoz Inquirer. “Boss, boss, I got a scoop. It’s Nikos, and Schnee. They’re both at Providence!” She paused, listening. “On it, I’ll get a draft to you as soon as it’s done.”

Sun hummed to himself as he headed for his team’s dorm. It was his first ‘independent study’ period since classes began three days ago, and he was intent on using it to take a well-deserved nap. He fished his scroll out as he approached the door, unlocking it by holding it against the scanner beside the doorway, and stepped inside. Immediately, Sun could tell something was up. 

Weiss and Pyrrha were both at the little coffee table to one side of the communal space, but rather than working together on school assignments or talking, they were silently looking at their scrolls. Weiss was curled up in one of the armchairs, knees pulled up to her chin with her scroll held in front of her. Pyrrha, for her part, was sprawled across one of the two sofas, long legs dangling off one end with her head resting on the other armrest, a dejected look on her face as she looked at the screen, her free hand resting limply on the floor.

“What’s up?” Sun greeted them, closing the door behind him. Weiss being quiet wasn’t terribly unusual, but seeing her subdued was something Sun was unfamiliar with. And seeing the typically bright and cheerful Pyrrha in this state was equally worrying. That, and trying to reconcile Pyrrha’s apparent melancholy with her brightly coloured clothes and makeup was difficult.

“Just…” Weiss began, before sighing. “Journalists being journalists,” she said unhappily, turning her head to look at Sun.

“... I don’t know what that means,” Sun said after a moment’s pause, walking closer to the pair. As he approached, Pyrrha turned her scroll so he could see. “‘Academy of the Stars? Multiple A-Listers Found Attending Providence!’,” Sun quoted. “That seems okay?” he said uncertainly. In response, Pyrrha scrolled to the next article. “‘Class Clown Nikos? ‘Jester of Mistral’ Wasting Her Potential at Providence?’ Yeah, that one’s shitty,” Sun said, frowning.

Pyrrha scrolled again, and more articles popped up. ‘Nikos Snubs Haven! Mistral Champion Chooses Junior Academy’, ‘A Win for Argoz! ‘Arlecchina’ Comes Home!’. “Wait, this one’s about Weiss. ‘Free as a Bird: Schnee Heiress Fleeing Further Abuse’?” Sun looked over at Weiss, a worried look crossing his face as he parsed the implications of that headline. Pyrrha turned her head to look at Weiss as well, her expression matching Sun’s.

Weiss shifted uncomfortably under their attention, curling up a little tighter and slowly rolling onto her side. “You should have seen what they were saying during the divorce,” Weiss commented, trying to deflect. Those words didn’t do anything to alleviate Sun’s worry, but he could easily tell Weiss wasn’t going to talk about whatever had happened.

Instead, he focussed on the current issue. “Why are people putting articles like that out? Does it really matter that you came here instead of Atlas?” he asked Weiss. “And why are they surprised you picked Providence over Haven?” he then asked Pyrrha.

“They’re not surprised, not really,” Pyrrha answered, dropping her scroll on her stomach.

“It’s tabloid media. They put out articles like that because they get a lot of attention, which means more money for these publications,” Weiss explained, still curled up in her chair.

“They get paid to write mean things about you both?” Sun asked, scowling. “That sucks.”

“It comes with the territory,” Pyrrha said, sighing and levering herself to sit upright, swivelling in her seat to face the table again. “It’s just… It’s just part of being in the public eye,” she groused. The three of them turned to look at the door as it unlocked, opening to reveal Ilia as she stepped in.

“Oh, hey,” she greeted them, frowning slightly. “... Something up?” she asked, glancing between them all.

“Journalists being their usual opportunistic selves,” Weiss spat, glowering at her scroll before, finally, putting it away, wrapping both arms around her knees.

“Not all journalists are like that,” Pyrrha countered, though her tone made it obvious her heart wasn’t really in her objection. “It’s just the tabloid article writers…”

“The profession’s riddled with scumbags,” Ilia responded, scowling as she found her way to a seat.

“It’s not ‘riddled’,” Pyrrha replied, frowning slightly. “There’s a few bad ones, sure, but…”

“Fine, they’re not all scumbags,” Ilia granted. “But most of them are lazy and gullible. I mean, just look at how much press any perceived crime committed by a faunus gets compared to actual acts of racially-motivated violence against us.”

“Or being used by corporations to cover up their wrongdoing,” Weiss added. “I watched Jacques use the media constantly. Either using SDC-loyal publications to get ahead of stories about accidents in the company mines, or creating publicity about some bit of charity work to drown out reports on the SDC’s mistreatment and exploitation.”

“Exactly,” Ilia agreed, nodding at Weiss. Wait, I’m agreeing with the fucking Schnee?! she briefly thought, before powering through it. “Objectivity in journalism died the moment the wealthy started buying publications, and those same publications turned around and gave them glowing reviews and high praise.”

“I…” Pyrrha’s frown deepened. She had to acknowledge Weiss and Ilia at least had a point. But I don’t agree with the broad strokes they’re making, she thought unhappily. “Can we just agree to disagree on this one?” she asked, somewhat helplessly, not wanting to fight with her teammates over the subject.

“Alright, let’s just move on,” Weiss said, her tone softening as she slowly uncurled. Pyrrha gave her a grateful, if slightly strained, smile. Ilia stared levelly at them both for a moment, before folding her arms.

“Fine. Anyone got anything else they want to talk about?” Ilia asked with a huff.

“Ohh, I had a thought!” Sun suddenly announced, breaking out into a grin. “The weekend’s coming up soon. How about we go explore Argoz?” he suggested.

“Oh, I like that idea,” Pyrrha said, perking up visibly. “I can show you plenty of interesting places, and all the best food vendors,” she continued, looking happily at the three of them.

“Probably how to avoid all the tourist traps as well?” Ilia asked, a smirk tugging at her mouth despite her lingering irritation.

“Oh, absolutely,” Pyrrha confirmed, nodding. “It’s… I understand that people need to make a living from tourism, but I wish people would actually get to know the real Argoz.”

“Well, you’ve got three foreigners to show around now,” Sun pointed out. “Or, maybe two to actually show around, since Weiss has been here before?” he asked, looking at Weiss.

“It’ll be nice to see it from a local’s perspective,” Weiss answered, smiling. “We didn’t really have a local guide or anything like that on our previous trips.”

“Well, this time you will,” Pyrrha said happily. “Is Saturday the plan?” she asked, glancing around.

“Sounds good,” Ilia said, nodding.

That Saturday morning, Team ISSN left the Providence student dorms and headed out into the city proper. Sun was wearing his typical jeans and open shirt, whilst Ilia had opted for a pair of red-brown shorts, combat boots, and a white t-shirt with a band logo on, along with her usual assortment of wristbands and ribbons. Both her and Sun wore backpacks, intent on doing a bit of shopping in the city.

Pyrrha was in another of her brightly-coloured casual outfits, this time with a short, lime-green crop top and an equally short, red, sleeveless jacket over that, a satchel bag slung across her chest. Finally, Weiss was dressed in an airy white sundress and a matching sun hat with a blue ribbon and an exceptionally wide brim. A white handbag decorated with her emblem hanging off one arm, and a pair of high-heels gave her a few extra inches of height, though she remained the shortest member of the group by far.

Not content with relying just on her sunhat and aura for protection, Weiss was still applying suncream as they left the dorms, briefly ducking into a bathroom to wash her hands once she was finally done. “You really need all that?” Sun asked her as she reemerged.

“I have a delicate complexion,” Weiss retorted, lifting her chin and sniffing haughtily. “And it’s bright out today,” she added, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a pair of sunglasses, slipping them on.

“It’s not that bad,” Sun countered, looking around and shrugging. “None of the rest of us are wearing suncream, we’ve got aura for that.”

“Not all of us come from a desert,” Ilia pointed out, doing her best to avoid looking directly at Weiss or Pyrrha in an effort to prevent her treasonous mind from thinking about how good the two of them looked in their respective outfits.

“And I am wearing a bit of suncream, actually,” Pyrrha informed him, smiling. “Taking care of your skin and avoiding burns is important, even with aura.”

“I guess,” Sun relented with a shrug. “So, what’re we doing first?”

“Well, to start with I thought I could show you all some interesting landmarks and places to visit,” Pyrrha began, glancing upwards thoughtfully. “Get most of the walking around out of the way before it gets too warm. Then we could check out the markets and get some shopping done, then get some lunch and ice cream, and then come back to Providence for controra. Or see if we can find a shaded place to take a break in,” Pyrrha finished.

“Controra?” Ilia asked, tilting her head as she peered up at Pyrrha.

“A lot of business in Argoz tends to come to a halt just after lunch,” Weiss explained as the four of them walked, her sunhat flapping a little with each step. “Especially in the summer months, it gets too hot for comfortable work.

“Oh, we do a similar thing in Vacuo,” Sun said, nodding. “Especially outside the cities, way too hot in the middle of the day.”

“All the more reason to get started quickly!” Pyrrha commented with a grin. “Best place to begin is on the mainland, I think. There should be a tram soon,” she then said, picking up her pace as she led the group towards the waterline.

“Tram? Not a ferry?” Sun asked.

“Well, I suppose you could call them ferries, but they look and operate more like trams, so…” Pyrrha tailed off as the four of them arrived at the ‘tram’ station, a slightly elevated concrete platform with a rain shelter and benches, as well as a board showing arrival times and routes for the trams. Pyrrha consulted the board for a moment before nodding to herself. “Okay, we want the number five tram when it arrives.”

“... How do they work?” Weiss asked quietly. “Do we just get on, do we need to pay?”

“Seriously? Have you never used public transport before?” Ilia asked, incredulous. Weiss turned to her, scowling.

“I was only allowed outside the manor for the first time two years ago. Forgive me if I haven’t had much experience with this,” Weiss shot back, folding her arms and flapping her wings in agitation. Ilia tried not to flinch, realising after the fact that her exasperated disbelief had been unfair.

“Normally you would need to pay,” Pyrrha began explaining, moving to try and head off an argument between the two of them. “But students at Providence get free travel around the city. You’ll just need to hold your scroll up to a scanner by the front door.” She gave Ilia a slightly reproachful look as she finished. Ilia looked away from her, chastised.

“Oh,” Weiss said simply before nodding, causing the brim of her hat to wobble up and down. “I understand.” The four of them waited for a minute or so, before the tram arrived. It was a curiously designed thing, on some level looking more like a bus than a tram or a boat. It featured two elongated cabins, connected by a flexible articulated section. There was a distinctly old-fashioned air about it as well, the outer hull built of wood and brass panelling. 

Even the gravity dust engines managed to look old, built to resemble enclosed lanterns jutting out close to the waterline. The only apparent concessions to modernity were an electronic screen on the front of the tram displaying the number five and, judging by the wash of cold air as the door at the front slid open, the air conditioning system.

Weiss frowned slightly, giving the tram a wary glance before looking at Pyrrha. Pyrrha just gave her an encouraging smile in return before stepping onto the tram, ducking through the door. “Hello!” she cheerfully greeted the driver as she flashed her scroll through the scanner, the device letting out a beep as she did so. Weiss followed Pyrrha on, giving the driver a nod before scanning her scroll as well, hesitating only briefly.

Once onboard, she took stock of the interior. It matched the exterior well enough, wood panelling along the walls. Red-cushioned benches ran the length of the tram on each side, stopping only for the doors, two per side at either end of each cabin and another door separating the two cabins. Brass rails ran along the ceiling with handholds hanging from them for standing passengers, though mercifully the cabin was empty enough that no one was standing.

Pyrrha found her way to a seat, Weiss following along after her. The pair drew some interest from the passengers. In particular, a younger child was staring at Pyrrha in wide-eyed awe, a tag featuring a cartoonish rendition of her more elaborate performance makeup hanging from their backpack. Pyrrha smiled and gave a little wave at the child, causing them to excitedly turn to, Weiss assumed, their mother, tugging at her sleeve and pointing at Pyrrha.

A moment later, they were joined by Sun and Ilia, the latter of whom glanced at the wildly gesturing child. “Someone’s got a little fan,” she commented, smirking at Pyrrha.

“It happens a lot around Argoz,” Pyrrha replied, turning to look out the window instead. Ilia tilted her head slightly, hearing a tinge of exhaustion in Pyrrha’s voice, but she elected not to comment on it. 

A few seconds later, the tram smoothly slid away from the platform and began the short trip to the mainland.

Chapter Text

After the tram arrived at the mainland, Pyrrha led the team through the winding streets of Argoz. Unlike most of the islands, this part of the city featured a few wide asphalt-covered roads for heavy goods vehicles, though the actual number of cars on the road remained relatively low. Instead, Team ISSN had to contend with the crowds of people. Between the residents of the city enjoying the day off, or visitors spending a weekend in Argoz, the city was busy.

“So!” Pyrrha said to the three of them over the noise of the crowd. “I know Weiss has probably seen a few of these already, but I thought we’d start with some of the better-known landmarks. Then we can check out a couple I think would be important for you all to see.”

“Important how?” Sun asked, tilting his head.

“Well, they’ll help you understand our history a bit better,” Pyrrha explained. “The first stop, though, has to be the Stellata dell'Occhio Settentrionale del Cielo!” she said, grinning broadly.

“... Gesundheit,” Ilia said flatly, blinking as she tried to understand what Pyrrha had just said. 

“Bless you,” Sun then said to Ilia, looking equally nonplussed.

“‘Stellata of the Northern Eye of Heaven’,” Weiss translated.

“Okay,” Sun said, nodding. “What’s a Stellata? And what’s the Northern Eye of Heaven?” he asked.

“Good questions!” Pyrrha said happily, continuing to lead the way. “‘The Northern Eye of Heaven’ is the Argosi name for the Anchor Star, so named for being apparently fixed in the night sky above Remnant’s north pole. Historically, it was one of the most important stars for navigation, and it’s one of the most significant figures in Asterism.”

“‘Stellata’ doesn’t have a perfect translation into Valean,” Weiss added. “Broadly speaking it means ‘temple’, though historically most stellatas also operated as observatories.”

“Asterism is like, star-worship, right?” Sun asked, tilting his head. “Some of the nomad caravans back in Vacuo follow it, I think.”

“It is, yes,” Pyrrha confirmed. “It originated here before the Republic formed, but got spread around Remnant by traders. The Stellata dell’Occhino in Argoz was the main focal point of the religion. It still is, but, well, religion isn’t as prominent on Remnant as it used to be.” 

Soon enough, the building came into view. Perched on one of the highest points within the bounds of the city, the rear of the stellata loomed above the edge of a steep ridge, with a much more gentle incline leading up to the vast entryway. 

Like most grand works of architecture in Argoz, the majority of the building was built of marble, with distinctive terracotta roof tiles. A massive dome covered most of the structure, decorated with windows and statuary, whilst a tower with a much smaller dome loomed even taller. With the stellata’s elevated position and relative separation from the surrounding buildings, it was hard to get a sense of scale. I wouldn’t be surprised if that ship from initiation could fit under that dome twice, Ilia thought.

“Oh hey, I saw that one on the airship from Vacuo!” Sun said happily, pointing at it and grinning.

“Yeah, it’s pretty distinctive,” Pyrrha said with a giggle. “Want to go see inside? There’s lots to see in there.”

“Sure. I wonder how they got the dome to stay up when it was being built,” Ilia mused. “They can’t have built scaffolding that high, right?”

“Well, it was apparently a bit of a challenge,” Pyrrha began explaining as she led her team into the stellata. “For starters, they had to invent entirely new types of crane to get the materials up there…”

The tour of the stellata ended up taking most of an hour, after which Pyrrha showed them to a few more landmarks; statues of Argoz’ founders, the fishing district, and a few of the city’s parks. Finally, they came to the last stop on Pyrrha’s list. The four of them stood before a burnt-out ruin of what used to be a three-storey building, built around a central courtyard area. Judging by the state of the walls, it had been this way for a while, with no efforts made at rebuilding or clearing the wreckage.

“‘Lucernia School of the Arts’,” Ilia read out from an information board, placed at the end of the path that led to the, presumably, defunct school. “‘Operated for two hundred and fifty six years before its destruction in the Argoz Occupation during the Great War’.”

“What happened to it?” asked Sun, frowning sadly at the sight of the destroyed school.

“Mistral did. Part of their and Mantle’s attempts to restrict personal expression,” Pyrrha answered, her voice subdued. “Soldiers from Mistral burnt the school down, which set off an uprising against the occupying army. Mistral barely managed to maintain control of the city, after which they decided to hold off on any more destruction until they’d defeated Vale and Vacuo. Of course, that never happened, so the rest of our culture was spared.”

“... My history tutors in Atlas taught me that the school was burnt down accidentally during the uprising,” Weiss said quietly, fidgeting slightly. Ilia frowned, remembering the same during her time in school.

“History textbooks printed in Mistral say the same thing. I’m not surprised Atlas tries to sanitise the occupation, given Mantle’s involvement in the actual capture of the city,” Pyrrha observed.

“Why didn’t they rebuild it?” Ilia asked. “Or build something else here?”

“It’s a permanent reminder of what Mantle and Mistral tried to do. It was more than just an invasion, their objective was to wipe out culture in its entirety.” Pyrrha spared a moment to glance at the information board. “No matter how much they try to move on, or pretend that’s not what they tried to do here, Argoz will never forget it.”

“So they burnt it down to suppress Argoz’ culture? Or… To try and force Argoz in line?” Sun asked, frowning thoughtfully at the ruins.

“Both, I imagine,” Ilia said. “It’s a pretty blatant threat to any other institution like this one.” There were a few hums of agreement from the team, quietly staring at the ruins for a while longer. Eventually, Ilia was the one to break the silence. “Can we go shopping now? I appreciate why you showed us this, Pyrrha, but I don’t want to spend the rest of our day out feeling angry.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said graciously, smiling. “I wasn’t trying to make you three angry, just…”

“It’s important we know what happened here,” Weiss finished for her. “But… Yeah. I want to end the day doing something fun.” For once, Ilia didn’t rebel at the idea of being in agreement with the Schnee.

Thankfully, the shopping trip proved to be substantially more lighthearted. By the time they got to the main market and shopping district on the mainland, the streets were even more choked with people going to and fro. Pyrrha had little difficulty weaving her way through the crowds, nor did Ilia and Sun.

Weiss, however, had far less experience with thick crowds than the others, and ended up almost glueing herself to Sun’s side to avoid being separated from the group. Despite the difficulty in navigating the hordes of people, however, Weiss hadn’t been prevented from making a substantial number of purchases.

“You good with all that, Weiss?” Sun asked, eying up the bags festooning her arms warily. “I can carry some of it if you need.”

“Oh, thank you!” Sun shortly found himself carrying a staggering number of bags instead, blinking rapidly at how quickly it had happened.

“Umm..?” He asked, glancing around helplessly as Weiss went to check out some other stalls. Ilia snickered as she looked at him.

“What a gentleman,” she said jokingly, grinning. Sun just sighed as Pyrrha laughed softly.

“Something caught your eye, Weiss?” Pyrrha asked, glancing over at her teammate. The stall she’d stopped at was selling a variety of weapons. Nothing as complex as a proper hunter-grade mecha-shift weapon, but a number of knives and other blades were on display in secure, locked cabinets.

“Maybe. I was thinking about getting Winter something, and she normally likes practical gifts,” Weiss mused, looking over the weapons on offer. The owner of the stall was a gruff-looking older man, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Weiss. “Hello, may I have a look at that one, please?” she asked in Argosi, pointing at an Argosi-style stiletto dagger.

The stall owner looked at her for a moment before leaning over and unlocking the cabinet, passing Weiss the knife handle first. Weiss carefully took it, giving him a grateful nod before closely examining the blade. It seemed to be a well-made dagger, hard steel with brass fittings and a wire-wrapped hilt. The price tag reflected that as well.

After studying the blade, Weiss gave a satisfied nod, passing it back to the stall-keeper before reaching into her handbag and taking out her purse. From her purse, she retrieved a card, looking around the stall expectantly for a card reader. “Cash only,” the stall-keeper said curtly.

“Oh,” Weiss uttered, hesitating briefly before putting her card away, pulling out a few larger-denomination lien notes and passing them to him. He took them off her, counting them quickly before opening the till, putting the notes inside it and closing it again. He then put the dagger in a box, and passed the box to Weiss. “... I think you forgot my change,” Weiss said after a moment, glancing between him and the till.

With an exasperated sigh, the stall-keeper moved one of the stacked boxes out of the way, revealing a sign that read ‘No change given’ in Argosi. Weiss blinked, and then scowled. “That sign was hidden!” she said angrily, gesturing at the sign in question. Beside her, Pyrrha frowned as well, folding her arms.

“Sign’s clear,” the stall-keeper said apathetically, shrugging.

“What’s going on?” Sun asked Pyrrha, glancing between the stall-keeper and the increasingly-agitated Weiss, the two arguing back and forth in Argosi.

“He’s not giving Weiss her change and hid the sign that said ‘no change given’,” Pyrrha said in a disapproving tone.

“That’s scummy,” Sun said, shooting a glare at the stall-keeper. Despite the clearly deceitful behaviour, a bitter part of Ilia couldn’t help but cheer at the idea of a Schnee getting scammed right in front of her. A snort of amusement managed to escape. Her eyes widened a moment later as she realised what had just happened, Sun turning to give her an incredulous look. Ilia looked down guiltily, feeling Sun’s eyes continue to bore into her.

Pyrrha, meanwhile, had joined in with the argument with the stall-keeper. Compared to Weiss, her Argosi was much faster, paired with dramatic gestures and hand movements. The stall-keeper matched her, gesturing broadly between Weiss, the sign, and just about every other direction possible. Sun turned back to watch the argument, unable to comprehend what was being said.

Eventually, some sort of agreement was reached. The stall-keeper opened the till again, handing Weiss her lien back. Weiss took it back, then handed Pyrrha all but one of the bills, tucking the rest into her purse once again. Then, Pyrrha made a production of taking her own purse out, starting to loudly count out smaller denominations of lien.

“What’s Pyrrha doing?” Sun asked Weiss, frowning in confusion.

“Pyrrha is paying him in exact change, as he clearly prefers,” Weiss said, still clearly upset by the ordeal but starting to cheer up again. “And she is taking pains to make sure it is exact.”

“Ahhh,” Sun uttered, smirking at the turnabout. A few minutes later, Pyrrha handed the exact payment for the knife to the now-irate stall-owner, who took it with a huff, slamming his till closed. He gestured for them to move on, and the four did so, Weiss lifting her chin and marching away with a huff, whilst Pyrrha gave a curtsey before following.

“Sorry that happened to you, Weiss,” Pyrrha said after catching up to her, glancing back at the stall with a scowl. “I’d like to say that sort of thing never happens, but… At least it’s pretty rare.”

“I just don’t understand why someone would bother doing that,” Weiss huffed. “If he doesn’t want to deal with change, then the sign should be clearly displayed. And if it’s about scamming people, it can’t be worth getting into that many arguments, right?” she asked, glancing at the other three.

“He didn’t look very happy to see you when you first walked up,” Sun observed.

“They normally do it to tourists that don’t have a local with them,” Pyrrha explained. “He might have tried it because…” She tailed off, glancing at Weiss nervously.

“... Because I’m a Schnee,” Weiss concluded, her wings slackening slightly, arms falling by her sides.

“Or he just doesn’t like Atlesians?” Pyrrha offered, wincing as she realised that didn’t sound much better.

“Is that common around here?” Ilia asked, conscious of her own background. Not that she thought it was likely for her to be clocked as from Solitas, but her time in the Fang had left her with a degree of paranoia.

“Not common, no. But you get racists and xenophobes everywhere, especially in places that got invaded during the Great War,” Pyrrha answered. “Are you at least happy with the dagger, Weiss?” she asked, looking at Weiss with concern.

“I believe so, though after that interaction I might give it a thorough examination in the workshop before sending it to Winter,” Weiss said.

“Probably a good idea… Should we find something to eat?” Pyrrha asked, looking at the others.

“Sounds good to me!” Sun said, grinning. “Getting a bit hungry.” Weiss and Ilia signalled their agreement as well.

“Oh, I think I know a place, actually!” Weiss said, smiling once again. “And it’s nearby, so we can get out of the sun,” she added, fanning herself with a hand.

“Well, lead on,” Pyrrha said with a gesture, curious to see where Weiss would lead them. Weiss did just that, the others following her sunhat through the crowd. They shortly arrived at a small plaza, Weiss angling towards a restaurant on one side of it. The seating area was mostly open to the elements, a roof held up by white-washed pillars with tables and white rattan chairs spilling out into the plaza itself. 

A bar ran across part of the wall, with a set of double doors that presumably led into the kitchen. The restaurant was decently busy; neither crowded nor empty, a couple of waiters weaving their way between the tables. Pyrrha grinned as she recognised the restaurant, surprised at Weiss’ choice. Far from a traditional Argosi restaurant, it instead served primarily Valean food, originally intending to cater to tourists but quickly becoming popular with locals as well.

“Is that Miss Weiss?” The team looked over as a short, elderly man in a short-sleeved white button-down shirt and black dress trousers quickly made his way over, a broad smile under his moustache. “And Miss Pyrrha as well! I didn’t know you were friends!”

“Hello!” Weiss greeted him happily, holding out a hand to shake. He bypassed the hand with surprising nimbleness for his age, quickly embracing Weiss. Weiss stiffened at the contact briefly, before returning the hug.

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said, bending down slightly to hug him after he’d hugged Weiss.

“Who’s your friend?” Sun asked, smirking at the scene. Weiss cleared her throat quietly.

“Ah, this is Mister Timisu,” Weiss said, before gesturing to Sun and Ilia. “This is Sun, and Ilia. They’re our teammates at Providence,” she then introduced. “I don’t think they speak Argosi,” she added after a moment.

“Ahh, your teammates?” Timisu said, nodding as he looked at Sun and Ilia. Each of them was pulled into a hug in turn, before he gave them both a serious look. “You take good care of Miss Weiss and Miss Pyrrha.”

“Yes sir!” Sun said, giving him a jaunty salute. Timisu laughed at that, reaching up to clap Sun on the shoulder.

“Let me get you a table by one of the fans,” he said, leading the four of them over to one such table, slightly removed from any of the occupied tables. Weiss gratefully sank into the chair closest to the fan, sighing in relief as cool air washed over her. Timisu got them some menus, and after taking their drink orders, departed again.

“So, how’d you learn about this place, Weiss?” Pyrrha asked curiously, tilting her head. It was far outside what she’d have expected for Weiss, and whilst she was quite happy with the choice, it still puzzled her.

“Klein took us here on our first trip to Argoz,” Weiss explained, smiling at the memory. “The owners, Mister Timisu included, were extremely kind and welcoming to us, and we made a point of coming here at least once every trip after that. Not always for the food, they do incredible ice cream here as well,” Weiss added.

“Bet you were happy about that, being from a cold place like Atlas,” Sun joked, grinning.

“You have no idea. I did not cope with the heat well on my first trip,” Weiss groused. Pyrrha arched an eyebrow, reflecting on the way Weiss had spent the whole trip darting from shade to shade, and had emptied her water bottle three times.

This is handling the heat well? she wondered jokingly. Before she could inquire further, a new voice cut through the conversation.

“Oh hey, it’s Ilia!” Team ISSN glanced over at the voice to see Team VLKE approaching, all dressed in casual clothes.

“Oh, hello!” Ilia greeted them, smiling and trying to avoid thinking about pretty girls. This was a difficult task, given three of them were currently approaching.

“Oooh, is this your team?” Nora asked, grinning broadly. “Hi, I’m Nora! This is Ren, Emerald, and Neon!” Ilia glanced at the final member of VLKE, having already met the others. She was a cat faunus, judging by the pink tail waving behind her, her slightly darker hair pulled into two massive pigtails. She was dressed in a loose tank top and a pair of short-shorts, a white collar with a bell on it around her throat. The sheen of sweat on her skin and the small electric fan she was holding suggested she was having some trouble with the heat.

“Nice to meet you,” Ilia said to Neon, trying not to blush. “I’m Ilia. This is Weiss, Pyrrha, and Sun.

“Likewise!” Neon said happily. “Oh! Why don’t we pull a couple tables together? We were gonna get lunch as well.”

“Sure,” Sun agreed. Weiss watched with mild alarm as chairs were shifted around, a nearby table pulled over, the lunch group having swiftly grown to eight people. Tiramisu returned with Team ISSN’s drinks as everyone was sitting back down, quickly handing out more menus and getting VLKE their drinks as well.

“Gotta say, didn’t think I’d see a Schnee at a place like this,” Neon commented, smirking as she looked across the table at Weiss. “Y’know, a restaurant where they put the prices on the menu,” she teased. Weiss huffed, glowering at her despite her joking tone.

“So!” Sun interjected, trying to head off an argument, or more people deciding to comment on Weiss. “How’d you all end up at Providence?” he asked, looking at Team VLKE curiously.

“Well, me, Ren, and Emerald are orphans,” Nora began after taking a big swig of her drink. “We’re all from Mistral and we’ve been sticking together for years now. When we decided to go to an academy, none of us wanted to stick around Mistral, too many bad memories. So, we picked Providence, since Argoz seems pretty cool!” Pyrrha smiled happily at the praise for her home, and Nora’s usage of the correct name.

“That and it was cheaper than a boat ticket to Vale,” Emerald added. “I mean, I could have stowed away, but Nora…”

“Hey! I can be sneaky!” Nora countered loudly, causing Emerald to give an amused snort. Neon reached over to pat Nora on the head twice before speaking.

“I’m from Mantle myself,” Neon then said. “When I decided to become a huntress, I took one look at Atlas and went ‘nah’. Forget the city being shit for faunus, I just didn’t wanna join the fucking military, even just for training.”

“I get that,” Ilia said, nodding. “So instead you went from the coldest city on Remnant to the second warmest academy,” she observed, smirking.

“Ughh, why’s it so hoooot?” Neon asked with a groan. “Still, worth it!” she declared, perking up again. “Have you seen the beaches around here? I’m gonna get so many cute bikinis.” Ilia tried not to choke on her drink at that mental image, her eyes widening briefly.

“Is that why you picked Argoz?” Pyrrha asked curiously.

“I mean, partly? We don’t exactly have the kinda beach you can sunbathe on in Solitas,” Neon pointed out. “Somewhere warm and sunny seemed cool, and Argoz looked really pretty in all the pictures, so…” Pyrrha nodded, giving her an understanding smile.

“Oh yeah!” Nora suddenly exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table, causing Weiss to jump before she pointed at Pyrrha. “Why are you a clown?!”

The rest of the table shared a laugh at that.

Chapter Text

The start of a week of classes, for many students, would be acknowledged only reluctantly. After a weekend of relative freedom, the return of schedules and school work and assignments was a drag, especially for those older students nursing hangovers from the night before.

For Providence’s first-year hunter students, however, Monday was met with eager excitement, for the day carried the promise of the first Combat class of the year. Before they had the opportunity to show off in the arena, however, there was a mandatory lecture for them all, given by Professor Keaton.

“Why couldn’t we fight people first?” Nora groused, slumping onto her folded arms as she sat in one of the chairs amongst the tiered seating.

“Maybe it’s an important message ahead of Combat class?” Emerald suggested, taking a seat beside her. “Like a safety brief? A lot of us aren’t exactly used to fighting in controlled conditions,” she pointed out.

“So you think it’s gonna be ‘no biting, no gouging, no kicking people in the crotch’?” Neon asked with a teasing tone.

“We did have rules like that in the tournament circuit,” Pyrrha chimed in helpfully from the row behind them.

“Last I checked, we’re learning how to fight things that only bite and gouge,” Emerald pointed out with a faint smirk. 

“Some grimm trample, or gore with tusks and horns,” Weiss added, fiddling with a pen. “Or spit acid, or use pincers…” she continued, tailing off quietly.

“I don’t think spitting’s gonna be allowed,” Sun said, blinking once. “Unless it’s part of someone’s semblance?” Weiss stopped fiddling with the pen, her face scrunching up into a disgusted sneer at that idea. Further conversation was stopped as Professor Keaton stepped into the lecture hall, walking over to the stage at a relaxed pace. As ever, he was dressed in a suit with his porkpie hat.

How does he not melt, wearing a suit around Argoz? Weiss wondered.

“Good morning,” Keaton said, turning to the assembled students with a smile. “I’m sure you’re all impatient for this lecture to end so you can all get to Combat class; I was exactly the same way when I was a first-year student. So, without any further ado…” He paused for a moment, casting a suddenly-sharp eye across the rows of students before him.

“Can anyone tell me what a hunter’s job is?” he asked.

“... To kill grimm?” Sun answered after a few seconds of silence, his voice uncertain. It was a question with such an obvious answer that it left him unsure, even as he said it.

“Incorrect,” Keaton said, which caused a wave of murmuring, some incredulity emerging from the students. “Killing grimm is part of how you do the job, but ‘killing grimm’ is not the job. Does anyone else have the answer?” he asked, glancing around the room again. No one seemed particularly keen on answering after Sun’s attempt, so Keaton eventually spoke again. 

“A hunter’s job is keeping people safe,” he emphasised. “Whether you are in the wilds thinning grimm numbers, patrolling around remote settlements, or providing security for vessels, trains, and caravans, your job is to keep people safe. How you go about doing that will differ from hunter to hunter, and contract to contract, but the end goal is always the same.

“With that in mind…” He reached into his pocket, retrieving a remote and pressing a button, causing the screen behind him to light up. It displayed a title card, bearing the words ‘The Philosophy of a Hunter’. “Let’s talk about why we do what we do, and how we do it.”

“... Philosophy?” Nora mumbled quietly, tilting her head in confusion.

“Let’s start with an example,” Keaton began. “Our outfits. Hunter outfits are extremely useful tools. They’re durable, weather-resistant, and able to store any dust or tools we might need. But pure pragmatism is hardly the only consideration that goes into their design. Miss Valkyrie,” he said, turning to look at Nora. “I see you’ve opted to wear your outfit to classes. If I may ask, why did you design it the way you did?” he asked.

“I wanted to swing a giant hammer around and look cute doing it!” Nora responded enthusiastically, grinning broadly.

“And how do you feel when you wear your outfit?” Keaton asked, smiling at her energetic response.

“Like I wanna smash a grimm’s skull in!” she cheered, pumping her arms into the air. The response caused some quiet laughter and the odd cheer from the other students, and Keaton nodded.

“So, would it be fair to say your outfit makes you feel stronger, braver, more powerful?” Keaton asked.

“Heck yeah,” Nora said, nodding quickly. Then, a glimmer of understanding appeared in her eyes. “Ohhhh…”

“Your emotional state is incredibly important when it comes to fighting,” Keaton said, looking at the rest of the audience. “This is especially true against the creatures of grimm, but also true of combat in general. Overconfidence can be a problem, of course, but if you go into a fight thinking you can’t win, you probably won’t win,” he explained.

“And it’s not just your emotional state that is of critical importance,” he continued, taking slow, easy steps back and forth across the stage. “Your outfits make you feel braver, stronger, all these positive feelings. Now, put yourself in the shoes of an average citizen experiencing a grimm attack. Imagine how scared they must feel, facing creatures out of nightmares, powerless to fight back.”

Keaton’s eyes turned sharp and incisive again as he analysed the crowd of students. Singling Nora out and getting her to talk enthusiastically about her outfit had worked to capture their interest, and many of them were now closing their eyes to better imagine themselves in the scenario Keaton had suggested. Some of them had uncomfortable looks, like they were intimately familiar with the feelings Keaton described. 

Making a mental note of those students, he continued. “Now, imagine how their mood changes when they see a hunter arrive. Not just someone who can fight, but an actual, honest-to-gods hunter,” he emphasised. “The outfit, the way they hold themselves. The palpable aura of strength and confidence they project. You are not just ‘a hunter’ to these people. You are a hero, something arrived out of legend to rescue them from the monsters.

“Whether you aim to look ‘cool’, or ‘cute’... Standing out in a way that is impossible to miss is the point of a hunter’s outfit,” he explained. “It makes you feel better, and it makes the people you are meant to protect feel better. It is well known that negative emotions attract grimm. Therefore, if by your presence alone you are able to reduce negative feelings, there will be fewer grimm. Fewer grimm, and your job becomes easier.”

Keaton paused for a moment to let his point sink in, observing the quiet chattering his words caused, enlightened expressions on many students’ faces. “Which brings us back to my original question. Your job is not to fight grimm. Your job is to keep people safe, by making them feel safe.

“You might dress in the most flamboyant outfit you can imagine, using the most over-the-top, athletic combat style you can achieve. Or, you might prefer to present yourself as a stylish point of calm in the midst of any chaotic situation.” He gestured to his own outfit and his relaxed posture for emphasis. “However you do it, the image you present has an enormous impact on how effective you are at keeping people safe.

“The hunters accompanying ships sailing around Argoz are the best example of this theory in practice,” Keaton said, pressing a button on the remote, the screen switching to a display of one such ship. “It isn’t just that ships protected by hunters are more likely to survive a trip; ships protected by hunters are less likely to be attacked by grimm in the first place.” 

Another button press, and a series of charts appeared, showing rates of grimm attacks for ships with hunters onboard versus those without. The figures, backed up with sources such as Argoz Coast Guard reports, supported Keaton’s point. “The mere presence of a hunter makes people feel safer. Thus, fewer negative emotions. Thus, fewer grimm.

“That being said,” he added with a smile. “Looking the part is all well and good; you still need to be able to back up the appearance with actions. It’s a good thing we have Combat class to help with that, isn’t it?” he joked, getting some chuckles from the audience. “Speaking of which, I think I’ve kept you from that for long enough now. 

“There’ll be a few more lectures like this throughout the year. I hope they all prove to be enlightening, and I hope you all take them seriously. As Captain Caspian would say; dismissed,” he finished.

“That was pretty intense,” Sun commented as he and the rest of the first-year hunter students made their way from the lecture hall to the training complex. “Like, it makes sense, but it’s a bit heavy for a Monday morning.”

“I suppose they thought we wouldn’t concentrate properly after Combat class,” Ilia said. “Which…” She tailed off, glancing ahead at the extremely-excited Nora. “Probably isn’t wrong.”

“The hammer scares me,” Sun said, eying the massive hammer Nora was carrying warily.

“Yeah,” Ilia agreed with a nod. “Really don’t want to get hit with that.”

“You might be soon,” Weiss pointed out. “Depending on who gets matched up against who.” Ilia grumbled quietly in response as the training complex came into view. The large building was a newly constructed part of the school, specifically to accommodate Providence’s hunter students. 

Containing a number of training rooms and arenas, one side of the building was dominated by a large, open-air arena. Enormous sums of money had been saved by incorporating the city’s university into Providence Academy over building an entirely new school, and a lot of that money had been funnelled instead into the construction of the training complex. The result was one of the most sophisticated arenas outside of Amity Colosseum, the outdoor arena capable of reconfiguring into a number of different forms and scenarios.

It was this arena that the first-year students were headed for, each of them excited to see the arena in action. Rows of seating ascended around the circular combat area, which itself was elevated off the ground a good distance. Overhead, currently folded against the arena walls, was a series of cranes and hooks which allowed for the arena to be changed according to the designs of the instructor.

The instructor in question, standing in the middle of the currently flat and empty arena, was Captain Caspian, grinning broadly. Behind her were a few members of Providence’s faculty, along with a few individuals the students didn’t recognise. “Good morning, students!” she called as they found seats in the stands. She was dressed in her usual attire, and was holding a hat upside down under one arm. Weiss squinted, spying small pieces of paper in the hat, half coloured blue, half coloured red.

“I’m sure you’re all very excited for your first Combat class,” Caspian continued. “Ready and raring to throw yourselves at one another, show off some of your skills, hm?” she asked, smirking deviously. “Well, let’s address how this first class is going to go. For starters, you will not be fighting one-vee-one for this session.”

“... We’re gonna be fighting in teams?” a confused student asked.

“Correct!” Caspian confirmed with a nod, the feather on her hat bobbing as she did so. “However, you will not be fighting against teams. That is what our distinguished guests are for,” she continued, gesturing to the people behind her. “I’m sure you recognise many of them as members of Providence’s faculty, whilst the rest are those who have kindly volunteered their time.

“Some of you arrived with trophies and accolades. Some of you already have experience in life-or-death situations. And some of you have neither. Regardless, to have made it onto the hunter course at all means you are a talented fighter." She paused, casting an eye across the ranks of students. "That being said, you all still have a long way to go, and a lot of room for improvement. This class will demonstrate that.

“Instead of fighting one-vee-one against another student, or putting teams against teams, today’s bouts will be one team… Versus a professional hunter.” The students silently looked at the hunters arrayed behind Caspian, taking their measure as the reality of the situation set in. A tense sort of energy replaced the open enthusiasm from moments ago, eagerness tempered by wariness. In the distance, a low rumble of thunder sounded, a stormbank slowly rolling towards the city.

“Our first bout,” Caspian declared, holding the hat in front of her and reaching in, first grabbing a piece of blue paper. “Will be… Team VLKE.” There was a competitive roar from Nora. “Versus… Mister Keaton.”

Chapter Text

Following the announcement of who would be fighting, the teachers and hunters vacated the arena, Caspian herself making her way to the arena’s controls. After fiddling with a terminal for a few moments, the arena began to shift, the cranes up above swinging into position. Sections of the floor lowered to be replaced with others, mock-up buildings and other items were moved into place. 

A minute later, the battlefield had been prepared. It now resembled a portion of Argoz; two reasonably wide streets met in a crossroads, creating some clear space between three building facades. The fourth corner was arranged like a small market, and one of the ‘buildings’ had scaffolding arranged around it.

“Providence has got quite an impressive training arena,” Weiss commented, having watched the entire process with rapt interest. “I wonder how they handle changing the floor… Hydraulics, pneumatics…” she muttered, her heel starting to tap again.

“It’s pretty cool, however they do it,” Sun agreed, grinning broadly. “I can’t wait to see how our teachers fight.” He glanced down to one side of the arena, as Team VLKE and Professor Keaton stepped out from the stands. Keaton nodded to the team once before moving to stand at one side of the crossroad. Even at this distance, Pyrrha could spot the keen, intense look in his eyes.

Team VLKE, meanwhile, took a few seconds to discuss something amongst themselves, before moving to stand opposite Keaton in a loose diamond formation. Nora was out at the front, hefting her hammer eagerly. On her left was Ren, standing calmly. On Nora’s other side was Neon, shuffling her skates back and forth whilst twirling her nunchucks. And finally, Emerald was in the back, rolling her shoulders and looking intently at Keaton.

“Team VLKE, are you ready?” Caspian asked, her voice echoing out of the speakers arranged around the arena.

“Ready!” Nora confirmed cheerfully, her grin threatening to grow wider still.

“Mister Keaton, are you ready?” Keaton gave a silent nod, cracking his knuckles and shaking out his arms. “Very well. Begin!”

Team VLKE were the first to move. Nora, Ren, and Neon raced ahead whilst Emerald stayed in place, narrowing her eyes at Keaton. Keaton blinked, looking off balance for a moment as the three students approached. Neon was the first to engage, propelled forwards by her skates and semblance, twirling her nunchucks as she rushed Keaton.

Without looking in her direction, Keaton reached under his jacket before lashing outwards with that hand. A long chain, connected to a handle in his right hand, unwound, lashing dangerously around him as it did so. Neon yelped as it caught her across the midriff. She retreated quickly, Nora and Ren both breaking off their attacks as Keaton whipped the weapon in wide defensive patterns around himself.

“What’s he doing?” Sun wondered, frowning as he watched the fight.

“He’s fending them off, but he’s not launching attacks against them directly, or even looking at any of them. It’s like he can’t even see them,” Pyrrha observed, leaning forwards in her seat. Analysing what a fighter was doing and why they were doing it was second nature to her, so picking up on Keaton’s apparent lack of awareness was almost automatic.

“Emerald’s concentrating on him a lot, and she hasn’t even moved,” Weiss pointed out. “Maybe it’s her semblance?”

“It is weird that she’s just standing there,” Ilia agreed. “But what kind of semblance is it?” Keaton continued twirling the chain around himself, slowly turning his head and squinting as he did so. Then, he suddenly looked in Emerald’s direction. Drawing his right arm across his chest, he pushed his left arm outwards with his forearm vertical. The movement caused part of the chain to wrap around that arm. He wound his arm in a circle before spinning on one heel, suddenly yanking both arms down.

The series of movements brought the bulk of the chain in a broad arc over his shoulder, lashing straight towards Emerald. Her eyes widened and she darted to the side, barely avoiding the weapon. The end impacted the ground hard enough to crack the tarmac. As it slowly began to rise back into the air, Pyrrha was able to make out the four flanges that made up the head of the weapon, and the glowing red crystal held loosely between them.

A moment after impact, the dust crystal released some of its energy in a ferocious explosion. Emerald was sent tumbling across the ground, scrambling back to her feet. Nora let out a yell as she charged, hoping to close the distance whilst Keaton’s weapon was still extended. He glanced sharply at her, whipping his arms back a moment later before dropping the weapon, the chain continuing to coil back towards him.

Keaton dodged the first wild, overhead swing by turning on his right heel. He snapped a quick punch to the side of her head, Nora blocking the second with her forearm. She then moved to heft her hammer again, stalling as the end of Keaton’s weapon caught up with the rest of the weapon, striking her in the back of the head.

“Oooh,” Sun hissed, wincing in sympathy. “Did Keaton do that on purpose, or was it an accident?”

“I’m… Not sure,” Pyrrha admitted, watching as Ren and Neon converged on Keaton. “If he’d dodged to his left, Nora wouldn’t have been in the right place to get hit by the chain returning. If he planned it, that’s a big gamble on an unpredictable weapon like that.”

Keaton backpedalled a good distance to avoid being pincered by the pair, hands half-raised at his waist, hands unclenched. Ren slashed high with his bladed pistols whilst Neon struck low with her nunchucks. Looking almost like he was stumbling, Keaton suddenly lurched to the left to avoid the joint attack. Lazily, he spun on the ball of one foot, bringing the heel of his other foot in a kick that connected with Ren’s kidney.

As Ren staggered back from the hit, Nora, having recovered from the unexpected blow to the head, charged in. He ducked the first horizontal sweep, Nora twirling her hammer around into an upwards diagonal strike. Keaton dodged again, this time by leaning backwards suddenly, swaying dramatically.

“He’s fighting like he’s drunk,” Ilia said, frowning and folding her arms.

“It looks almost like zui quan, but modified,” Pyrrha commented. “It’s a fighting style from Mistral designed to mimic a drunk person’s movements to throw off your opponent.” She then grinned, eyes almost glittering with excitement. “That’s it, it’s like a more slapstick version of zui quan!”

As Nora recovered from her swing, Ren moved in to occupy Keaton’s attention, Neon skating around behind him. Emerald was slowly approaching the fight, the look of intense concentration back on her fight. At a pair of sharp whistles from her, Ren suddenly stepped to one side. A moment later, Keaton threw a punch at where Ren had been standing, and blinked in surprise when his fist met nothing.

Ren capitalised on the opening, slashing twice across Keaton’s upper chest and shoulder. Keaton lashed out blindly in retaliation, failing to connect but forcing Ren to back off. Keaton then lowered his head and rushed forwards. Nora held the haft of her hammer across her chest, ready to defend herself, but he raced past her, Neon in hot pursuit. Neon spun her nunchucks around as she caught up with him, her signature rainbow trail blurring behind her.

She swung at his back as she hurtled past, but Keaton ducked into a roll, scooping up the handle of his weapon as he did so. As he rose to his feet again, he gathered the long chain up around his arms before whipping the end at Neon, forcing her to keep her distance. He glanced over his shoulder at Ren and Nora, the pair moving to try and encircle him, and then at Emerald, who was uneasily adjusting her grip on her weapons.

Keaton then looked at the mock market present in the arena, and smirked. The chain lashed out, wrapping around a table leg. Keaton then jerked the chain back, whipping the table at Emerald. She yelped, darting to one side to evade it whilst Keaton repeated the move, launching boxes and furniture at Team VLKE with incredible accuracy.

Nora used her hammer to bat the first two missiles aimed at her out of the air but was soon forced to run for cover, ducking behind a low wall with Emerald. Ren had managed to make it behind the corner of one of the buildings, whilst Neon was desperately skating zig-zags as she tried to reach him. “Never miss a beat, never miss a beat, never miss a beat!” she frantically muttered to herself as wooden splinters exploded around her.

“What do we do?!” Emerald asked, looking wide-eyed at Nora, flinching as another box crashed against their cover.

“I’m thinking,” Nora assured her, wracking her brain for ideas. A glint of metal caught her eye, and she looked over to see Keaton’s whip impact with the building Ren and Neon were hiding behind, the dust crystal letting out another explosion and cratering the masonry. Nora blinked, and then grinned as inspirations struck.

“Emerald, give me an opening,” she said, transforming Magnhild into its grenade launcher form.

“Right.” Daring to peek over the wall, Emerald concentrated on Keaton. Visible only to him, an illusion of Ren darted into the open, rushing across the open ground. Keaton’s eyes flicked to the illusion before he launched a bench from the market at it. “Now!”

Nora sprung up, quickly loosing a volley of four grenades at Keaton. His eyes widened as he realised the peril, and he whipped his weapon outwards, catching two of the grenades and detonating them early. The rest exploded around him, filling the air with smoke and knocking him off-balance.

“Go go go!” Nora ordered, transforming her weapon back and charging. Emerald was a step behind her, Ren and Neon hurrying to catch up. Keaton regained his senses in time to see Nora and Emerald almost on him. Without the time or space to use his weapon effectively, he dropped it again, stepping forwards and throwing a punch at Nora to interrupt her hammer swing. And then Ren and Neon arrived.

Keaton dodged and blocked rapidly, doing his best to move around to avoid being surrounded. However, even with the skill gap between himself and his opponents, the four-on-one melee was wearing on him, Emerald and Neon managing to score some glancing hits against him.

As the melee progressed, Nora slipped out of the circle trying to encircle Keaton, eying the combat carefully and waiting for an opening. She grinned as she found it, darting forwards and swinging Magnhild, pulling the trigger at the moment of impact, an explosion detonating from the striking face of her hammer.

The combined force of the hammerblow and the explosion launched Keaton clear of the melee, crashing through the wall of one of the buildings. A gasp came from the crowd at that, a couple of students letting out whoops and cheers. Pyrrha blinked at the scene, before glancing at the screen displaying the fighters’ aura levels. To her surprise, even after that hit Keaton was still above three-quarters, well into the green.

It’s far from over, she realised, looking back at the arena. The dust that Keaton’s impact with the building created was starting to clear, and a shadow loomed out of the cloud. Team VLKE took a step back, all of them tensing as Keaton emerged, brushing crumbled masonry off his shoulder and his hat. 

Lifting his head again, he peered across the open ground at Team VLKE, before nodding once. The friendly smile appeared on his face before he shed his jacket, letting it fall to the ground. With quick, deliberate motions he removed his cufflinks, stowing them in a pocket before rolling his sleeves up. He rolled his neck to the side, cracking it loudly, before doing the same on the other side.

“Bravo,” he said simply, before he moved. In the blink of an eye he was on top of Team VLKE, hammering a punch into Nora’s face. Nora was launched backwards, tumbling head-over-heels. Before the rest of the team could react, Keaton spun around before loosing a crunching side-kick at Ren, Ren doubling over from the force of the impact.

“Hey!” Neon yelled, cracking her nunchucks before swinging it at him. Keaton ducked under the strike, crouching low and grabbing one of Neon’s ankles. Then, he yanked the leg back sharply. “Ah!” she yelped, falling backwards as she lost her balance, her other leg slipping out from under her.

Before she hit the ground, Keaton released her leg before palming her face, lifting her head slightly before slamming her into the ground. A round of sympathetic noises came from the stands, several students flinching. Emerald’s eyes widened, the only person in her team currently standing, and she raised her weapons to attack, yelling as she slashed down at Keaton.

Keaton lifted an arm to block the blow, his other hand scooping up his weapon. As Emerald lifted her weapons to strike at him again, Keaton surged forwards and upwards, attempting to tackle her. Nimbly, Emerald danced backwards, avoiding the grapple and peppering Keaton with shots. Undeterred, Keaton continued to rush her, spinning his chain around and lashing it at her, striking her several times and forcing her to continue her retreat towards the scaffolding-clad building.

Hearing movement behind him, Keaton turned quickly, whipping the chain around himself before lashing it out, slamming the tip into the ground between him and the onrushing remainder of Team VLKE. The ensuing explosion delayed their charge, and he swiftly retrieved the weapon before swinging it at Emerald. Gritting her teeth, Emerald leapt backwards, putting herself clear of the attack and landing well within the shadow of the building.

Emerald tensed as Keaton glanced at her with that increasingly-familiar sharp-eyed look. Then she blinked, realising he was looking past her. She gasped, instinctually darting to the side as the whip snapped forwards. Belatedly, she realised the attack wasn’t aimed at her, and she turned her head as she heard the clattering of chains against metal pipes. There, about halfway up the building, Keaton’s weapon had wrapped around the scaffolding.

“... Oh shi—” Keaton pulled on the chain, wrapping it around his arm and turning to heave it over his shoulder. With the sound of wrenching metal, that critical beam of the scaffold was ripped out of the structure. Emerald turned to try and flee, but was too slow as the mass of pipes and clamps was brought down on top of her. 

The sound was cacophonous, Weiss holding her hands over her ears and cringing beside Pyrrha. “Emerald Sustrai has been eliminated via aura depletion!” Caspian announced. Pyrrha glanced at the screen again; her aura hadn’t broken, but it was firmly in the red. “I would recommend that Miss Sustrai remain in place until the end of the bout,” Caspian added, looking at the pile of collapsed scaffolding.

Three-on-one, and Professor Keaton’s still in the green… Whatever Emerald was doing to him at the start was the only thing keeping him from taking the team apart. I don’t know if VLKE can win this now, she mused, frowning in thought. The rest of Team VLKE were staring at the wreckage in shock, even as Keaton retrieved his chain with a series of sharp arm movements.

“That’s it!” Nora roared, hefting her hammer. “You are going down!” With a feral yell, Nora charged towards Keaton.

“Hey, Nora, wait!” Neon called after her, sharing a glance with Ren before the pair rushed to keep up. Keaton stood up straight as they approached, before side-stepping Nora’s wild swing. He dodged the next attack, and the next, even evading Ren and Neon’s strikes as they joined the fray again.

Keaton circled around the group, acting purely evasively, before starting to fall back, leading the group towards one of the other buildings. “What’s he up to…” Ilia wondered aloud. “Why go on the defensive now?”

“He’s got a plan, I think,” Weiss replied, her foot tapping away rapidly, deep in thought. As the audience watched, the battle moved close to the wall of the building, and Keaton suddenly sprang into action. He twirled around, sweeping the head of his whip across the base of the wall. As it went, the crystal roared in a series of smaller, controlled explosions, ripping away the lowest supports of the wall.

With a groan, the wall began to fall. Team VLKE, having committed fully to the assault on Keaton, darted in separate directions to try and escape. The whip lashed out again, wrapping around Neon’s waist, keeping the fastest member of the team trapped. A moment later, the wall came crashing down, a thick cloud of dust billowing out.

Her vision obscured, Pyrrha looked sharply over at the aura display again. Team VLKE are all in the red. How did Professor Keaton’s aura not take any damage? Incredulous, she looked back at the steadily-dissipating dust in the arena. After a few seconds, the cloud thinned enough for the audience to see what had happened.

Keaton was still upright, standing within the frame of a window. When the wall fell, he had been standing in the perfect position to avoid being hit by it. The same could not be said for the three members of Team VLKE. None of them had managed to escape the falling masonry in time, and a few twitching limbs could be seen emerging from the rubble.

“Team VLKE has been eliminated via aura depletion. Mister Keaton is the victor!” Caspian announced. The audience applauded for him, the students starting to talk nervously amongst themselves. Pyrrha glanced at the screen for a final time, seeing that Keaton was still in the green.

Is the gap between us and the professionals really that big? she wondered. A medical team quickly moved into the arena, carefully digging out the beaten Team VLKE with the assistance of Keaton and a few professional hunters.

“Mister Keaton,” Caspian began once the students had been checked for injuries and allowed to return to their seats. Pyrrha glanced over at them; they seemed a little demoralised by the defeat, but not massively so. “Would you mind explaining your semblance to our students? To help them understand what they just saw.”

“I don’t mind at all, Captain,” Keaton replied, smiling warmly out at the crowd. “My semblance is ‘Kinetic Precognition’. Put simply, it allows me to perfectly predict and visualise how objects will move based on forces I can impart upon them,” he explained. “It’s how I can use a weapon like mine as effectively as I do, as well as my surroundings. Such as bringing the scaffolding down on Miss Sustrai, or making sure I would be safe when I collapsed the wall.”

So that’s how he knew the returning chain would hit Nora in the head, Pyrrha thought, eyes widening with the realisation. Just by itself, the semblance isn’t that powerful. But with the right kind of fighting style and weapon…

“Thank you, Mister Keaton.” Keaton nodded, collecting his jacket before leaving the arena. “So!” Caspian said, looking across the seated students. “Shall we see who’s next?”

The next few matches followed a similar pattern, clearly highlighting the difference in skill between a fresh team of first-year students and an experienced professional hunter. The team would benefit from outnumbering the professional, but invariably the professional would end up winning. 

The fight that caught Pyrrha’s attention the most was Team APAL’s fight against a Valean hunter called ‘Tawn’, who fought with a semblance apparently capable of deflecting, stopping, or even reflecting attacks. As with the previous matches, the student team ultimately lost, but they’d been able to make Tawn work for it at least.

“Our next bout,” Caspian called out, reaching into the hat once again. The blue and red pieces of paper had dwindled away, only a scant few remaining. “Will be… Team ISSN!”

It’s our turn. Pyrrha turned, looking at her team. Ilia was giving them all encouraging looks. Sun grinned eagerly, whilst Weiss chewed her lip nervously. Pyrrha met her eye, giving her a smile and a nod, despite the butterflies in her stomach. We’re going up against a professional, but we’ll be okay. No one else has won their match, so there’s not too much pressure, she thought.

“Versus…” Caspian paused, then smirked as she considered the piece of red paper in her hand. “Captain Eureka Caspian.”

Pyrrha blinked rapidly, her eyes widening. “Oh…”

“Fuck,” Ilia uttered.

“... Well, we’re screwed,” Sun declared, helpfully.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so, what do we do? I don’t want to get my ass kicked by my aunt,” Sun asked quietly as the arena began to reconfigure. The other students and even some of the staff and professional hunters had started whispering amongst themselves after the announcement that Caspian would be sparring. Many were shooting glances in Team ISSN’s direction.

“I’m thinking,” Ilia hissed, eyes wide with near-panic. “Pyrrha, you live here. Any idea what her semblance is?” she asked, looking up at Pyrrha.

“It’s a form of wind or weather manipulation, from what I’ve heard,” Pyrrha answered. “It’s hard to distinguish fact from sailors’ stories, but it’s meant to be a very powerful semblance.” There was an uncharacteristically nervous look on Pyrrha’s face, which wasn’t helping Ilia’s mental state.

“Right, so flying is probably out if she can control the wind,” Ilia mused, watching the arena as it was transformed into a facsimile of a dockyard. The crane was only a smaller one, a full-sized dock crane unable to fit in the arena, and the water seemed shallow. There were stacks of crates and barrels, as well as a replica of a fishing boat in the small pool. There was a single structure; a relatively small two-storey office building.

“We’re running out of time for a plan,” Weiss pointed out as the signal was given for them to enter the arena. Myrtenaster was already in her hands, Weiss fidgeting with the rotating cylinder, her wings twitching on her back.

“I know,” Ilia huffed out. She managed to avoid shooting Weiss a glare, continuing to wrack her brain. The four members of Team ISSN assembled at one end of the dock that stretched the length of the arena. 

At the other end stood Captain Caspian, her coat billowing slightly as she drew her sword. It was a long cutlass-type weapon, a pair of barrels projecting up from the hilt along the flats of the blade. In her other hand she held a sleek, long-barreled pistol, gunmetal grey with dark wood furniture.

“It depends what she does,” Ilia said, her mind finally producing something approaching a strategy. “If she goes on the offensive, whoever she singles out needs to just try and survive whilst the rest of us go in on her flanks. If she plays defensively, then we need to rush her. We all saw what happened to VLKE when they gave Keaton time and space. If we’re going offensive, Pyrrha and I take the front, Sun and Weiss pin her down with range and then close in. Got it?” Ilia asked.

“So, be aggressive? I can work with that,” Sun said, looking the most confident out of the four as he twirled his staff. Weiss frowned, twisting her lip, but remained silent.

“Team ISSN, are you ready?” Keaton asked, having taken over Caspian’s role as referee for the fight. Ilia glanced around her team, getting nods of varying levels of confidence from the other three.

“Ready,” she called, nodding and swallowing, readying her weapon.

“Captain Caspian, are you ready?” She signalled the affirmative with a flourish of her cutlass and a nod. “Begin!”

Team ISSN collectively tensed up, waiting for Caspian to attack. She didn’t, instead striding at a confident, leisurely pace towards them. Her cutlass was held to her side at a downwards angle, pointed towards the floor, whilst her pistol was held against her leg.

“Go!” Ilia ordered, seeing what she thought was a window to take the offensive, charging towards Caspian. Pyrrha launched ahead with a flap of her wings, quickly outpacing Ilia. Behind her, she heard the ringing sound of Weiss’ semblance, followed by a series of glowing white darts shooting past her. A staccato crack-crack sounded shortly after, Sun’s nunchuck-shotguns firing a salvo as well.

Caspian didn’t change her pace, her blade snapping up in a series of lightning-fast moves to block and deflect the incoming projectiles. Then, with a sudden howl of wind at her back, she lunged forwards, racing to meet Pyrrha’s charge. At the last moment though, just as Pyrrha prepared to stab at her with her pike, Caspian jinked to the side, instead rushing past her, buffeting Pyrrha with gale-force winds as she passed.

Ilia’s eyes widened as she quickly found herself the target of Caspian’s charge. With a yelp she raised her sword to block the slash aimed at her head, a jolt going up her arm from the force of the blow before she turned the cutlass aside. She ducked as Caspian’s pistol snapped up to fire a shot at her.

Then she was knocked off her feet. The air was driven from her lungs as what felt like a fist of compressed air rammed into her gut. Another blast of air drove her back down, slamming her face-first into the dock hard enough to crack the wood. As Ilia was left dazed, Caspian was already moving, sprinting for Sun and Weiss as Pyrrha arrested her own charge, wheeling around to come to her team’s aid.

Sun stepped forwards, firing another salvo as he swung his weapons around his body. As before, Caspian defended herself from the blasts with swift sweeps of her blade. She pulled a couple of triggers on her sword as she closed the distance, frost coating her blade before she clashed with Sun.

He unleashed a point-blank barrage at her, but a sheet of ice sprung up between the two of them courtesy of Caspian’s dust, splintering under the repeated impacts. Another blast of wind launched the disintegrating shield into Sun, causing him to duck his head and close his eyes.

A blast of arctic winds against his chest threw his arms to the sides, allowing Caspian to strike him across the temple with her cutlass’ guard. A glyph erupted between the two, protecting Sun from any follow-up. Glancing sharply to her left, Caspian winced as a salvo of Weiss’ darts peppered her, only getting her guard up in time to block the final few, Weiss lunging at her immediately after.

Caspian parried the attack, lifting her pistol and aiming at Weiss. Instead of ducking like Ilia, Weiss quickly threw a glyph up to absorb the shot, recovering Myrtenaster and stabbing up from a low angle. Caspian side-stepped, bringing her cutlass down at Weiss’ head. A quick pirouette allowed her to dodge the blade, wings tucked tightly against her back before flaring wide to knock Caspian’s arm aside.

Weiss struck at the opening she’d created, slashing up quickly. Caspian barely managed to deflect the blow with her pistol, squeezing the triggers on her cutlass again. Weiss’ eyes flicked down to the blade, widening as flames erupted along the blade. She threw up another glyph to protect herself from Caspian’s upward slash, beating her wings to give herself some distance.

Snorting, Caspian swept her sword through the air, throwing an arc of fire to lash at Weiss. She flapped her wings again, taking to the air and flying over the flames. Caspian’s attention was drawn away from Weiss as Sun launched another series of attacks, right as Pyrrha returned to the fight.

The tip of Pyrrha’s pike met the flat of Caspian’s blade, the combination of Pyrrha’s strength and momentum forcing Caspian back a few paces. Her cutlass danced in her hand, blocking the majority of Sun’s strikes and blasts, a few slipping past her guard to chip away at her aura.

“Better!” Caspian roared approvingly, a grin breaking through her previously stoic expression. Winds whipped up around her, flames flowing from her blade to create a localised firestorm that forced her assailants to retreat. With a sweep of her blade, a tornado of fire was flung at Pyrrha, her eyes widening as she threw herself to the side. Caspian took the opportunity to rush Sun, sword raised high.

Right as she brought it down, however, it twisted in her hand, something unseen forcing her attack off-target. Automatically she turned her head to look at Pyrrha, the moment’s inattention allowing Sun to crack her in the shoulder with his reassembled staff. Her sword arm momentarily deadened from the blow, she was forced to use her other arm to defend herself from the follow-up strike, gritting her teeth.

A shift in the winds behind and above her alerted her to Weiss’ approach, and she dropped to the ground right before impact. Weiss let out a startled cry as her target suddenly disappeared, unable to stop herself before she crashed into Sun. The pair fell in a tangle of limbs, Weiss squawking indignantly. 

Not allowing herself to be distracted by her teammates’ misfortune, Pyrrha stepped up and stabbed down at Caspian. A cushion of air carried Caspian away from the attack, the tip of Pyrrha’s pike burying itself several inches into the dock. A gust-aided flip brought Caspian back to her feet in time to block an attack from Ilia, Ilia having recovered from Caspian’s vicious attack against her.

A sudden blast of flame-laced wind knocked Ilia back a pace as Caspian leapt back, opening the distance between her and Team ISSN. “Pyrrha, wait—!” Ilia called, to no avail as Pyrrha rushed to catch Caspian. A flick of Pyrrha’s wrist sent a pair of narrow throwing knives flying from her sleeves. A brief howl was heard as Caspian tried to deflect them, but the blades were oddly unperturbed by the gale, forcing Caspian to block with her sword instead.

“This isn’t working,” Weiss said, appearing at Ilia’s shoulder, having extricated herself from the tangle with Sun.

“I know, I’m thinking,” Ilia hissed out, frustration spilling out slightly as she shot Weiss a scowl. “We’re getting some hits in. We just need to try and wear her down. Let’s go,” Ilia said, running to rejoin the fray, Weiss and Sun joining her. With four opponents in the clash, Caspian was forced onto the defensive, parrying and blocking with sword and pistol, lashing out attacks in the few gaps she could find.

Something’s wrong, Ilia thought, feeling a prickling sense of paranoia on the back of her neck. The fight was far from easy; Caspian was more than capable of fending off the overwhelming majority of ISSN’s attacks. And whilst Caspian’s own attacks weren’t achieving much, they were keeping her team on their toes, switching the dust on her blade between ice and fire a couple of times.

She’s not using her semblance as much now. The occasional wind blast was still present, either aiding Caspian’s defence or throwing dust-infused winds at her opponents, but nothing like how hard Ilia had been hit towards the start of the match. A brief glance at the monitor told her that Caspian still had plenty of aura left. Why’s she being so conservative with it? Wait, that’s lower than I thought—

Ilia then blinked as a drop of cold liquid hit her on the cheek. Rain? Frowning slightly, she risked looking upwards, eyes widening as she did so. When the match started, there had been some patchy clouds in an otherwise blue sky. Now, though, a dark, swirling cloud occupied the air above the arena.

Weather manipulation. She’s been keeping us distracted. Looking back sharply at the fight, Ilia saw Pyrrha lunge forwards, jabbing at Caspian’s leg with her pike. Caspian dodged the strike but one of the streamers decorating Pyrrha’s weapon, lashing around in the chaotic winds, tangled around her ankle.

With a forceful pull, Pyrrha tugged her weapon back and to the side, yanking Caspian’s leg with it. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Caspian fell backwards, eyes locked on Pyrrha as she toggled the triggers on her sword, electricity crackling up its length. Pyrrha brought her pike around, levelling the point at the falling headmaster before stabbing downwards.

Then Ilia’s vision went white. A split-second later, a deafening crash of thunder made her stagger back, wincing at the volume. Blinking the spots from her eyes, she recovered just in time to see Pyrrha being thrown back, a bolt of lightning leading from Caspian to her and firing her into the side of the office building. The remainder of ISSN were forced to retreat to safe distances by sparking arcs of energy, as Caspian slowly lifted into the air, rain starting to pour down.

“Oh fuck,” was all Ilia was able to get out before she felt her hair starting to lift. With a bare instant to spare, she threw herself to the side, lightning hammering into the ground where she was just standing. Weiss and Sun were similarly sent scattering by lashing arcs leaping from the storm cloud overhead.

As Ilia scrambled back to her feet, a hammerblow of wind caught her in the side, tumbling across the ground. A flash of white caught her eye as Weiss went airborne, beating her wings furiously against the storm to gain altitude. Caspian tracked her, waiting for her to bank around and begin her approach.

Weiss jinked back and forth, throwing Caspian’s aim off if she happened to throw any lightning at her. Suddenly, Weiss committed to an approach, one wing flaring out whilst the other remained tucked against her back, turning sharply. Then, without warning, the winds around that wing shifted. Weiss’ eyes went wide as her turn became a stall. She frantically flapped her wings, only to find the air conspiring against her.

With Weiss’ flight firmly out of control, Caspian swept her hand. What felt like a brick wall slammed into Weiss, a solid mass of air driving into her and carrying her out of bounds, eventually crashing into the sandy floor just beneath the lip of the arena. “Weiss Schnee is eliminated by ring-out,” Keaton announced as Weiss groaned, face down in the sand.

Whatever satisfaction Ilia felt about outlasting the Schnee was severely tempered by the thought of continuing the fight against Caspian. Right now she seemed less a teacher and huntress and more a force of nature, raining down lightning as she floated in the air. Sun and Pyrrha desperately evaded, the latter having recovered from the point-blank bolt she received earlier.

Determined to at least land a single hit against Caspian, Ilia grit her teeth and charged. She cycled the trigger on her weapon, the sword extending out into its whip-like mode. The lightning dust stored within crackled to life, electrifying the now flexible blade. With a yell, Ilia pulled her arm back, preparing to lash up at Caspian.

Caspian glanced down sharply at her, and Ilia suddenly found herself thrown off her feet by a gust. She barely had enough time to register the fact she was now over the arena’s pool of water before she unceremoniously landed in it with a splash. The next instant, her world was filled with pain as her weapon discharged its stored electricity into her.

“Ilia Amitola is eliminated via aura depletion. Medics, if you’d be so kind as to fish her out…” With half the team eliminated, Caspian turned her attention back to Sun and Pyrrha. Rapidly, she alternated between fire and ice dust, hot and cold currents of air beginning to whirl. The two students rallied, the former firing shots at her whilst Pyrrha threw a few more knives, though none made it past the barrier of wind whipping around her.

“What do we do now?” Sun asked nervously, glancing at Pyrrha.

“Cover me,” was all Pyrrha said before charging again. Sun stared in shock for a brief moment, before gritting his teeth and firing a faster volley. He moved after Pyrrha, keeping a safe distance. Moments later, he found himself very grateful for that fact. 

As Pyrrha approached Caspian, the winds whipped faster and faster. By the time Pyrrha was aware of the danger, it was too late. The tornado that Caspian had given life surged forwards, away from the still-floating headmaster and towards Pyrrha. Desperately, she tried to escape, but the sucking vortex was too strong. 

With a frightened yell, Pyrrha was lifted off her feet, spinning helplessly within the twister before being thrown clear, hitting the barrier that divided the arena from the stands. She was only vaguely aware of the sympathetic noises from the other students as she bounced off the barrier, landing on the sand below.

“Pyrrha Nikos is eliminated by ring-out,” Keaton announced. Sun gulped, glancing between where Pyrrha had been thrown out and Caspian.

“Uh oh,” he said simply, turning and sprinting away from her as she flew towards him. To his credit, he managed to survive for another minute or so, doing his best to dodge lightning bolts and gale-force winds. Ultimately, though, it was to no avail, Sun finally caught by a succession of brutal lightning strikes.

“Sun Wukong is eliminated via aura depletion. Captain Caspian is the victor,” Keaton announced, as if the outcome weren’t obvious. Ilia groaned faintly as she was carefully lifted out of the water, shrugging off the attention of the medics. She wasn’t hurt; her aura had stopped any actual damage from her electrocution.

She was just upset.

Chapter Text

Morale was low amongst the students gathered in the stands, nursing their injured prides. None of the teams had managed to win their bouts, though some had been closer than others. Ilia’s mood was particularly foul as she sat with folded arms, the sting of defeat only worsened by the maintenance her weapon was going to require after the unintentional discharge into the water.

“Naturally, I expect many of you are disheartened by the results of today’s matches,” Caspian said, glancing across the seated ranks of students. “Just remember that all of us have been where you are now. And that means you all have room to improve. You’ve got four years of training, learning, and improving ahead of you. And I don’t think any of our professionals today would call their matches easy, would you?” she asked, looking towards the gathered teachers and hunters. A series of negatives and shaking heads answered her.

“Recordings of your fights will be made available to each team. Analyse them, learn from them. See what mistakes you made, see what worked well. Dismissed.” Without a word to her team, Ilia got out of her seat and all but stormed out of the arena, stomping her way back to the dorms. The two periods after this combat class had been left clear, and Ilia now understood why, knowing any classes would be useless in her current mood.

“Well that was bullshit,” she growled out once she was in her team’s dorm, tossing her weapon onto her desk. “That wasn’t a lesson, that was just hazing.” On an intellectual level, she knew she wasn’t being truthful; she understood the point behind the class they’d just endured. But her injured pride refused to allow her to acknowledge that aloud.

“I…” Sun began, drawing his lips tight across his teeth. “Okay, it sucked, but I don’t think it was hazing. Like, I get the point; we’ve got a lot to learn.”

“I have to agree with Sun,” Pyrrha said, a slight frown on her face. She’d walked the entire way back to the dorm in something almost approaching a daze. “I imagine a lot of students will benefit from a dose of reality like that, going forward. It was… Eye-opening,” she added, blinking slowly.

“There are a lot of areas we need to improve, and a few mistakes we need to learn from,” Weiss added. The flicking of her wings betrayed some of her lingering agitation, particularly annoyed by how she’d been eliminated. “I succumbed to my instincts and took flight during the flight, and it got me eliminated.”

Had Ilia been calmer, she might have registered Weiss’ exact use of words. Even in her aggravated state, part of her brain still made note of ‘succumbed to her instincts’. However, with the bulk of her thoughts still firmly trained on recycling her own anger, all she could muster by way of reply is an irritated grunt. She pulled her chair out roughly, pulling her toolkit out from under the desk and sitting down, grumbling to herself as she started dismantling her weapon.

Pyrrha, meanwhile, had picked up on what Weiss said, shaking her from her slight stupor. She turned to face her, a worried frown on her face. “It was a stressful, chaotic situation. Being in the air is usually a better position for us when things get hectic like that. Granted, it wasn’t the right move, but it’s not…” She tailed off, struggling to find words that weren’t too accusatory.

“... Regardless, I shouldn’t have done it,” Weiss said after a few moments, wings shuffling uncomfortably. She then cleared her throat, standing a little straighter. “There were other mistakes I observed, of course,” she continued, making Ilia grit her teeth.

Are we really doing this right now?! she thought, incredulously.

“Pyrrha, you didn’t operate with the rest of the team,” Weiss said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t give any of us an opportunity to catch up with you or back you up, acting more like a solo fighter.” There was no condemnation in her voice that Pyrrha could identify, just an honest assessment that she couldn’t even disagree with.

She’s really criticising other people now? She got knocked out first! Ilia fumed silently, trying to focus on a particularly uncooperative screw, growling as the head of her screwdriver slipped again.

“That’s a very fair assessment,” Pyrrha said, nodding. “I am too used to fighting by myself. I… I suppose in the moment I just assumed you’d all do your own thing, which isn’t really fighting as a team,” she acknowledged. Weiss nodded back at her, and Ilia somehow felt her turn to look at her.

“And speaking of which, our tactics didn’t work, and we didn’t manage to adapt when they failed.” Ilia’s grip on her screwdriver tightened, her knuckles going white as she ground her teeth together.

You’re going to criticise me now?!

“We didn’t work to our strengths well enough, and—”

“Oh my gods would you shut the fuck up?!” Ilia suddenly snapped, dropping her screwdriver and semi-disassembled weapon. She stood and turned sharply to glare at a startled-looking Weiss, Sun and Pyrrha also taken off-guard. Weiss rallied quickly, her wings flicking as she frowned, huffing.

“I’m just pointing out things we did wrong,” Weiss retorted, folding her arms. “There’s no need to yell at me for it.”

“You really think we want to hear what we did wrong right after we got our asses kicked?” Ilia asked angrily, stepping towards Weiss. Behind Weiss, Sun and Pyrrha shared alarmed, wide-eyed looks. “Like, holy shit, did you think for a second we’d want to hear it?” she demanded, taking another step closer. Weiss, refusing to be intimidated, scowled in return, flaring her wings.

“We were told to analyse our fights and learn from them. I’m just pointing out our mistakes,” Weiss shot back, her own tone irritated now.

“And I don’t want to hear it from you,” Ilia hissed, fists clenched as she glowered. Weiss let out an offended scoff.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Weiss challenged haughtily, her tone very nearly making Ilia lose whatever control she had left.

“It means you don’t get to fucking criticise me, Schnee,” Ilia spat, unconsciously slipping into Mantlan, closing the distance and jabbing her finger in Weiss’ face.

“Hey, hey!” Suddenly she was pushed back, her view of Weiss replaced with a scowling Sun, interposing himself between the pair. “That’s enough, you need to chill out,” he said forcefully. 

“But she—!” Ilia cut herself off as Weiss reappeared from behind Sun, storming out of the dorm and slamming the door shut behind her. Sun’s head jerked over at the sound, before turning back to Ilia.

“Nice job,” he snarked, before bolting out the door after Weiss. Ilia continued to stare at the door, listening to her heartbeat hammering away in her ears. Her hands shook at her sides, her breathing slightly ragged. Slowly, she managed to tear her gaze away from the door, turning to look at Pyrrha.

“So…” Pyrrha began, slowly, cautiously. She wasn’t glaring at Ilia, not like Sun was, but there was a distinctly disapproving look on her face, along with concern. “We should discuss what that was.”

“I…” Ilia grimaced, closing her mouth again. She had nothing to defend herself with, nothing she hadn’t already said or could say without revealing her past. “Okay,” she said simply, instead, reining in whatever anger hadn’t already bled away. Regardless of whether or not Weiss deserved it, Pyrrha certainly didn’t in Ilia’s eyes.

“I don’t know what history you two have, if any, but what happened now was not acceptable. I don’t know why you dislike Weiss, but we’re a team. We already saw today what happens when we don’t work together; imagine how much worse it will be if we’re actively fighting each other,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“... Yeah. I’m… I’m sorry. I…” Ilia hesitated. “I’m not ready to talk about why, just… You’re right.” she acknowledged, sighing and clenching her fists again.

“I’m not the person you should be apologising to. Maybe Weiss shouldn’t have pressed the issue, but your reaction was completely uncalled for, and she deserves an apology for it,” Pyrrha said, folding her arms.

“Yeah. I’ll… Do you think I should go after her now?” Ilia asked, looking at the door. Pyrrha followed her gaze, humming.

“Probably not, I think you should both calm down a little first,” she suggested.

“Okay…” Ilia looked down, shamefully. A few moments later, the door swung open again, revealing an irritated Sun.

“I couldn’t catch up to her; she flew away,” he explained, pulling the door shut behind him. He looked at the downtrodden Ilia, then turned to Pyrrha.

“We’ve had a talk,” Pyrrha explained. Sun simply nodded, sighing and dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m going to hit the gym. Call me when Weiss gets back.” With that, he disappeared briefly into his room, reemerging with a sports bag before leaving the dorm once again. Wordlessly, Ilia walked into her own room, closing the door behind her and collapsing onto her bed, screaming into the pillow.

Nice fucking job, Amitola…

Neon, meanwhile, was walking slowly back towards the dorms with Emerald. Ren had taken Nora to get some pancakes, but neither of them had felt like eating, and were instead slowly working off their lingering hurt prides. “It’s a bit bullshit they knew our semblances and we didn’t know theirs,” Neon groused, using the slight incline of the path to roll lazily onwards.

“I mean, yeah, but that’s how it’s gonna be a lot of the time,” Emerald pointed out. “Hunters need a reputation to get the good jobs. But a reputation means the people you go up against have a better chance of knowing what you do.”

“I guess. Still bullshit.” Emerald grunted in agreement, glancing up as she heard flapping wings.

“Is that Weiss?” she asked, watching a white-winged faunus fly overhead 

“She’s flying away from the dorms… Ilia looked pretty pissed, do you think they had a fight?” Neon asked. As they watched, Weiss fluttered to the ground under a tree near the waterfront, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest.

“... Should we go talk to her?” Emerald suggested. “She looks… Unhappy,” she decided.

“Sure,” Neon agreed, the pair making their way over to the sulking Schnee. As they approached, Emerald circled around slightly to make sure she was in Weiss’ line of sight before speaking.

“Hey,” she greeted Weiss, taking in her furrowed brows and angry eyes, mouth hidden behind her knees. “You good?”

“... No,” Weiss replied grumpily. Neon and Emerald glanced at each other, before sitting down either side of her, not too close but not too far either.

“What’s up? You look pissed,” Neon said, leaning forwards to peer at Weiss. Weiss glanced at her, holding her gaze for a second before huffing.

“I was trying to go over our fight with Caspian and Ilia started yelling at me,” she replied.

“Okay… Why’d she start yelling at you?” Neon pressed.

“I don’t know!” Weiss said, throwing her hands up, wings giving an agitated flap. Emerald flinched as the sudden gust blew her hair into her eyes, taking a second to brush it out of her face again.

“Uh huh,” Neon said flatly. “Let’s try this then. What exactly were you saying when she started yelling?” she asked. Weiss paused, taking a moment to think.

“I was just starting to talk about how our tactics were insufficient for the fight, and that we didn’t work together well enough,” Weiss explained. “And then she told me to shut up.” Neon frowned, leaning forward a little further to glance at Emerald.

“... And you didn’t think that going over what your team did wrong right after the fight might have upset someone?” Emerald asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Clearly not,” Weiss said, scowling deeper, tapping her foot rapidly. “We need to go over the fight and what we did wrong. I don’t know why she’s so upset about that.” Neon’s look turned thoughtful, studying Weiss for a moment.

“Does stuff like this happen often, Weiss?” Neon asked. When Weiss gave her a quizzical expression, she continued. “I mean, you doing something that makes total sense, and then you not understanding why other people are upset?”

“Yes,” Weiss answered, nodding.

“Okay… Random shot in the dark; do you come up with a schedule in your head of the time and order you wanna do things that day?” she asked. Weiss blinked twice at her, tilting her head.

“... I do, yes,” she said, slowly.

“And how does it feel when something disrupts that schedule?”

“Annoying,” Weiss answered, huffing quietly.

“Uh huh…” Neon nodded, considering that information for a moment. “Are you autistic?” Weiss recoiled, taken completely off-guard by the question. Then, she rallied.

“Excuse me?” she asked, somewhere between baffled and offended. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she added, defensively.

“I didn’t say there was!” Neon said quickly. “There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with it. Just… You sounded exactly like some autistic friends of mine,” she explained. “Not getting why people are pissed at you doing stuff that makes sense to you, getting annoyed when your internal schedule is disrupted. Tapping your foot or drumming your fingers whenever you’re thinking,” she added, nodding to Weiss’ foot.

Weiss glanced down, scowling as she realised her foot was tapping again. “... I don’t know how I’d even tell,” Weiss said after a few seconds of silence, wrapping her arms around her knees again. “It’s not like I ever got tested or anything…”

“Up to you if you want to,” Neon pointed out. “No one’s gonna force you. Just, well… For now, maybe we can go over what happened with Ilia?”

“... Sure,” Weiss relented, staring out at the water.

“Okay! So, to start with the important bit. Most people, after they lose a match or make a big mistake or something, need some time to calm down a bit before they can start getting into why it happened…”

Back in the dorm, Ilia was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The anger was gone, leaving behind shame and anxiety. Part of her insisted she should still be irate at the Schnee, but that was sorely tempered. Nice fucking job, she grumbled mentally, sighing and draping an arm over her face.

She paused as she heard the door to the main room open, straining her ear to listen. Identifying the sound of Weiss’ voice, she closed her eyes and steeled herself. Once she felt ready, she swung her legs off the side of the bed, standing and making her way to the door. She grasped the doorknob, and then paused again, taking a few, steadying breaths, before pulling the door open.

In the main room, Weiss, Pyrrha, and Sun had all stopped talking, turning to look at her. “Hey,” Ilia said meekly, not yet meeting Weiss’ gaze.

“Hello,” Weiss replied flatly, causing Ilia to wince. She lifted her head, finally looking into Weiss’ eyes. She stared back at her, her expression decidedly neutral.

“I… I’m sorry,” Ilia apologised, the words somehow managing to burn on the way out. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper when you were just trying to help.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Weiss agreed, folding her arms, causing Ilia to wince. “I… I have been informed that it can be less than helpful to highlight errors immediately after a loss,” she reluctantly acknowledged, glancing away. “But I still feel that your reaction was extreme,” she finished, looking back at Ilia.

“It was extreme,” Ilia said, nodding and grimacing. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, a touch helplessly.

“Hmmm…” Weiss hummed, narrowing her eyes as she studied Ilia. “I don’t know what your problem with me is,” she stated. “And I don’t care to know. So long as something like this doesn’t happen again, I accept your apology.” Ilia’s shoulders sagged in relief; she’d been worried Weiss would throw the apology back in her face, and the team would be back at square one.

“Thank you,” Ilia said quietly, swallowing. She glanced at Sun and Pyrrha. The former gave her a nod, whilst Pyrrha offered an encouraging smile. “Umm… While you were out, I thought of some things we could go over regarding teamwork, if you’d like?” she said.

“Alright,” Weiss agreed, moving to sit on one of the sofas. Further allayed, Ilia followed her, sitting in one of the armchairs, Sun and Pyrrha taking their seats as well.

“So… As Weiss said, our tactics weren’t working. That’s something we need to think about, and I think mainly will be fixed through practice,” Ilia began, receiving a few noises of agreement. “One thing that occurred to me as well is we never actually discussed semblances,” she then pointed out.

“We… Did not, you are correct,” Weiss replied, blinking slowly. “I suppose I’ll start. Obviously, my semblance is ‘Glyphs’. Put simply, I can create glyphs which can generate a number of effects, such as propelling or slowing things on top of them. They also allow me to create dust effects at a distance, and depending on what dust type I infuse them with, they can cause different reactions. A full list would be… Quite extensive,” she said, glancing between the three of them.

“That’s good enough for now,” Ilia assured her. “Sun?” she then asked.

“Oh, it’s called ‘Via Sun’! I can create copies of myself with aura!” he said, grinning, happy to see the team working together again. “They can move around and attack things based on my commands. It takes a lot of focus, though, and I can’t move whilst using it,” he added.

“Which is why you didn’t use it against Professor Caspian?” Weiss asked.

“Yeah. Standing still seemed like a really really bad idea in that fight,” Sun confirmed, nodding.

“I’d have to agree. What about you, Pyrrha?” Weiss asked, looking at Pyrrha. “I don’t think anyone’s ever managed to figure yours out,” she observed. Pyrrha’s eyes widened slightly, pausing before leaning forwards, elbows on her knees.

“I’ve tried very hard to keep it secret,” Pyrrha began, frowning thoughtfully. “But, if we’re going to be working together as a team, you should know. My semblance is ‘Polarity’. It allows me to control and manipulate metal around me.”

“So that’s why my compass was freaking out on the raft!” Sun exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “It kept just jumping to point at you every now and then.”

“And why I felt something strange,” Weiss added. When the others looked at her quizzically, she continued. “I can… Sense magnetic fields, part of my faunus traits…” she said quietly, as if ashamed to admit that. Her wings curled around her a little, shrinking into her chair.

“Yes,” Pyrrha confirmed, nodding. “I’ve tried to be subtle about how I use it. Guiding an opponent’s weapon to just barely miss me, helping make sure my knife throwing is more accurate. I use it with Marrote as well.” She nodded to the colourful pike propped up in the corner, not yet returned to her locker. “The streamers have thin metal wires woven into them, which I can use to tangle up the limbs or weapons of my opponents.”

“I saw that happen a few times in your tournaments. A lot of people think you must have a luck semblance,” Weiss observed, smirking slightly. Pyrrha returned the smile, giving a soft laugh.

“I’ve had people speculate to me that my semblance is related to comedy because of people tripping over my weapon, and how I use it in the circus,” Pyrrha said, shaking her head in amusement. “Oh, and I’m sure you’ve all noticed that sometimes it’s very springy and flexible? There’s a switch inside the haft I can use my semblance to toggle that locks it straight, or allows it to bend.”

“Very useful,” Ilia commented, already starting to think of ways to combine the team’s semblances.

“What about you, Ilia?” Sun asked, turning to her. “What’s your semblance?” Ilia blinked, meeting his eyes before glancing down, somewhat embarrassed to answer. “Ilia?” he asked again, tilting his head.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “It’s… I’ve never managed to figure it out.”

“That’s okay!” Pyrrha reassured her, smiling. “There’s all the time in the world for you to discover it; I’m sure it’ll just happen one day during training.”

“Thanks,” Ilia said, lifting her head and returning the smile. She then glanced at Weiss, who was staring at Pyrrha with a quizzical expression. “Weiss? You good?” she asked carefully.

“Pyrrha?” Weiss began, drawing her attention.

“Yes Weiss?” Pyrrha replied, tilting her head.

“Your hat has dust crystals attached to it,” she pointed out, gesturing to the jester hat resting on Pyrrha’s desk. Ilia glanced over, remembering the crystals contained in the small cages attached to the hat’s three peaks. 

“It does, yes,” Pyrrha agreed, nodding with a puzzled look on her face.

“Why didn’t you use it during the fight against Caspian?” Weiss asked.

“That’s… A very, very good question.” It was Pyrrha’s turn to look a little embarrassed, grinning sheepishly as she scratched the back of her head.

“... Did you forget you had it?” Sun asked, a touch incredulously.

“I only ever use dust in my performances!” Pyrrha said, trying to defend herself. “I use the same outfit for fighting, so I thought ‘oh, I’ll use it if I ever need to in a fight!’ And I just… Haven’t ever needed to,” she said, lamely.

“Okay, well,” Ilia began, trying to save Pyrrha from some of the embarrassment. “What sorts of dust do you have? We can figure things out from there.”

“I keep ice, gravity, and water in my hat for various gags and special effects in my performances,” Pyrrha explained. “I also keep wind and fire dust up my sleeves. Wind is also for gags, I use the fire dust in my fire-breathing act.”

“You can breathe fire?!” Sun asked, eyes wide with wonder.

“The ‘normal’ way with paraffin, and with dust,” Pyrrha confirmed, grinning. “I prefer using dust; it’s a bit more expensive, but easier to control with aura.”

“That’s good to know…” Ilia mused, already starting to think of ways to incorporate Pyrrha’s choice in dust into the team’s tactics. “Alright, let’s start trying to think of some combinations and tactics…”

Chapter Text

Things between Weiss and Ilia settled back to neutral terms after Ilia’s apology. Some awkwardness lingered, and Ilia still had to bite her tongue once or twice, but things seemed at least better than before. A few days later, after classes had finished, the team received a summons from Caspian, calling them to one of the academy’s lecture halls.

“So, what do you think this is about?” Sun asked as the four of them walked towards the lecture hall. “You don’t think we’re in trouble, right?”

“I think we’d be being called to Caspian’s office if we were in trouble,” Ilia replied, rolling her eyes. “We’re probably being given a mission. According to the syllabus, we should expect at least two deployments in our first year.”

“Oh, that makes sense. What do you think we’ll get?” Sun asked, tilting his head to the side as he thought. “Grimm sweeps out in the wilds? Helping the cops? Oh, or escorting merchant ships? That was something Keaton mentioned in his lecture.”

“There’s not much point speculating, seeing as we’re about to find out,” Weiss pointed out.

“Right,” Ilia agreed, frowning slightly as she, once again, found herself agreeing with Weiss. Even after we made up, that still feels weird. “Let’s just see what Caspian has for us,” she said, moving ahead of the group and pushing the door to the lecture hall open. 

Waiting on the stage for them, as expected, was Captain Caspian. Standing next to her was a tall man with tanned skin and a close-cropped brown beard, dressed in the cyan uniform of Argoz’ coast guard, a hat tucked under his arm. Already waiting in the stands was another student team, one Ilia quickly recognised as Team APAL. Quietly, she moved to put Pyrrha between herself and the other team, trying to avoid the gaze of one member in particular.

She didn’t have long to linger on the other team, though, as Caspian turned to address them. “Ah, Team ISSN. Good, please find a seat,” she said, gesturing to the rows of unoccupied seats in the lecture hall. The fresh memories of their bout against the headmaster meant no one in Team ISSN was eager to test her patience, and all four found seats in the front row quickly.

“So,” Caspian began. “Team ISSN, Team APAL, congratulations; it’s time for your first deployment. This gentleman standing beside me is Captain Silver of the Argoz Coast Guard. Both teams will be attached to the MCGS Carefree for a week-long patrol of the waters around Argoz. Captain, the stage is yours,” she said, turning to Captain Silver and nodding. Captain Silver returned the nod gratefully.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” he replied, his voice stern and clear, before turning back to face the students. “As you have already heard, we will spend a week at sea patrolling the waters around Argoz. The purpose of these patrols is to ensure the security of shipping in the area and to prevent smuggling operations, as well as provide aid to any vessels in distress,” he began explaining.

“Naturally, this brings us into conflict with both grimm and pirates semi-frequently. Which means hunter support is very welcome, and makes postings like these excellent training for prospective hunters such as yourselves. You won’t be expected to assist with the day-to-day running of the ship; bringing you up to speed on that would take much longer than the week I’ll have you for,” he added, smirking ever-so-slightly.

“That distinction aside, you will be serving on my ship under my command,” he continued, his expression settling on deadly serious. “I will expect you all to follow orders when they are given. There is plenty of room for things to go catastrophically wrong out at sea, and failing to do as I say when I say it can and will get people hurt or killed.

“You will report to the Carefree at oh-six hundred hours tomorrow at the Arsenal. The first day will be spent covering everything you’ll need to know for the rest of the week, or at least as much as we can fit in that first day. Food and laundry facilities will be provided aboard the ship, and each team will have their own cabins. 

“You’ll be given some forms to fill out regarding weapons and munitions you’ll be bringing aboard the Carefree, these will need confirming before you’re allowed to bring them aboard. That is all.” He nodded to Caspian again, stepping back as she walked to the middle of the stage again.

“Thank you, captain.” She turned to address the students again. “A lot of hunters in the Argoz area take contracts with the coastguard or merchant vessels, so this kind of experience is invaluable for your future careers. 

“That said, be careful,” she emphasised, glancing between the two teams. “As Captain Silver said, a lot can go wrong. Watch out for one another, and follow his lead. I will be sorely displeased if I hear that you refused to follow his instructions, especially if that leads to harm.” She paused to let her words sink in. “That will be all. The forms that were mentioned can be found at the door. You are dismissed.”

With the briefing done, the two teams filed out of the lecture hall, each collecting a form on their way out. Once outside, Ilia turned towards Team APAL, intent on introducing herself properly. She was, however, taken off guard as one of them rushed over, arms wide.

“Weiss!” Weiss barely had time to let out a surprised yelp as she was swept up into a hug that lifted her off her feet for a moment.

“Ack! Fiore, unhand me!” Weiss squawked, squirming until she was released. The other girl, Fiore, giggled to herself.

“Hehe, sorry Weiss,” she apologised in Argosi, her accent strongly native to the area. Now that she’d stopped moving, Ilia took the time to take in her appearance properly. She was tall, a couple of inches taller than Sun even without her heels, with the olive skin shared by most Argosi natives. Her hair was a pale blonde, tumbling down her back in long, thick, spiralling curls that made Ilia think of a drill.

A royal purple corset, with gold trim and white pleated fabric in the centre, clad her upper body, leading into a short, white, pleated skirt with a gold lining. A multi-layered waist cloak went around her hips, split down the middle and shaped like a long pair of coattails, the top layer purple with a ribbon-like trim, then a slightly longer gold layer ruffled at the edges, and finally a longer-again layer of gold.

Slightly see-through black stockings covered her legs up to her mid-thigh, some detailing in thicker material running up the front of each leg. The hems were decorated with a dark purple ribbon with a gold clasp on the outside of her thighs, and her shoes were closed-toed high heels, also black with a decorative bow on the back of each. More gold trim decorated each shoe, set with a silver disk on the front.

Her sleeves were separate from the corset itself and made of the same material as her stockings. Much like her stockings, a thick ribbon was tied around the top of each sleeve, from under which a frilly white piece of fabric emerged, a similar design to her skirt. The sleeves flared out at her wrists, and a pair of gold-trimmed black leather vambraces offered her forearms some protection, though to Ilia’s eye they seemed more decorative than anything.

Black, floral lace clung to her neck, to which some gold ornaments were secured. The most notable of these were a trio of inverted triangular devices arranged around the bottom of the lace, each set with a purple gemstone. A pair of large sunglasses covered her eyes, the frame gold in colour. 

Completing the outfit was a wide-brimmed dark purple hat, set at a jaunty angle and decorated with a large purple and gold bow, to which were attached three fabric roses, one purple and two gold. Ilia found herself struggling not to stare, the outfit displaying the other girl’s toned limbs and generous chest very well.

After straightening her outfit, Weiss coughed to cover up her embarrassment, cheeks flushed slightly. “Everyone, this is Fiore Aglianco,” Weiss introduced. “We met during my first trip to Argoz a couple of years ago, and we’ve kept in touch since then. This is Sun Wukong, Pyrrha Nikos, and Ilia Amitola.”

“Fiore Aidani Aglianco,” Fiore gently corrected, emphasising the middle name before grinning at Sun. “Lovely to meet you, Sun,” she said, shaking his hand. “Pyrrha, I believe we met at a gala last year,” she then said as she shook Pyrrha’s hand.

“Briefly, yes,” Pyrrha confirmed, nodding and smiling politely. Fiore returned the nod, before moving to Ilia. Ilia held out her hand, but rather than shake it, Fiore grasped her fingers gently and bent down slightly, lifting Ilia’s hand to her lips and kissing the knuckles.

“Charmed,” she said in Argosi with a teasing smirk. Though she didn’t understand the word, Ilia’s spots immediately turned bright pink, her cheeks going red as her eyes widened.

“Haaa,” was the only noise that escaped Ilia’s mouth as it opened, the gears in her brain having seized up entirely. With a heroic effort, she managed to avoid gawking directly at the very pretty woman in front of her, regaining control of her body again. “H-hello,” she croaked out, causing Fiore to chuckle quietly, releasing her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet Team ISSN properly. I’ve seen you all in classes, of course, but never quite had the chance to introduce myself,” she said, casually slipping her sunglasses off. Ilia was struck by the sight of her eyes, losing herself in them for a moment, the right iris royal purple whilst the left was silver. “Ah, and this is my team,” she said, turning on a heel and gesturing broadly at the three people behind her.

“This is Pandora Oakley,” she began, stepping next to a woman who was a little taller than Ilia. Compared to her leader, Pandora was dressed fairly simply, wearing a white shirt and sturdy black trousers, leading into practical combat boots. Fingerless gloves covered her hands, scuffed and worn with use. A metal plate covered the back of each glove, roughly etched with a phrase in Vacuoan.

A heavy, brown leather duster coat went over her shirt along with a number of belts and buckles sporting an assortment of pouches. A cowboy hat was perched on her head, with cutouts that allowed a pair of tabby cat ears to poke out the top, a notch taken out of one of them. A matching tail emerged from her coat, and her hair continued the tabby colouration. Her eyes were an emerald green, and her skin was a dark brown, many shades darker than any of the others.

“Hey,” Pandora said flatly, scowling faintly. It was the type of scowl Ilia had seen many times in her life, and it meant Pandora was pissed off. Not at anyone or anything in particular; it was just her natural state of being, after a life of being let down and forgotten.

“Then we have Francesca Lucci,” Fiore said, gesturing to the next person down the line. In sharp contrast to Pandora, Francesca was beaming brightly. The shortest of Team APAL at an even five feet tall, she had darker blonde hair than Fiore, tied in a pair of thick tails that hung just past her shoulders, as well as deep blue eyes and fair skin.

Francesca wore a white, square-necked, knee-length dress with gold trims, pleats coming up to her waist. Three decorative gold buttons in a row leading from hem to waist fastened it, and a light blue underlayer peeked just past the hem of the dress. The sleeve cuffs were wide and folded back once, exposing the same blue lining.

White tights covered her legs, with black, round-toed high-heeled shoes, the heel wide and blocky, with a strap around her ankle. A white and blue bow was affixed to the breast of her dress, and a thick tome bound in blue and gold hung from a strap at her waist. Finally, a neckpiece of white cloth wrapped around her throat, a star-shaped gold ornament on the front.

“And last, but certainly not least, is Atala Anthra,” Fiore finished, gesturing grandly. Ilia swallowed quietly as she looked at the final member of Team APAL, someone she’d gone to lengths to try and avoid running into. 

From the waist up, she was pale-skinned with long, straight black hair tied back in a ponytail, and piercing blue eyes. Her cheeks were ever-so-slightly gaunt, and there were faint bags under her eyes. Rather than human ears, she instead had a pair of black-furred horse ears, flicking back and forth anxiously.

From the waist down, where one would have expected to see normal human legs, Atala instead had the body of a horse. Large and black furred with white feathering around the hooves, Atala’s status as a faunus was instantly apparent, her centauric form putting her at a towering eight foot.

Despite her size and the local climate, she’d endeavoured to cover up as much as possible. A black, double-breasted coat with a high collar extended along the length of her equine lower body, reaching to just below where the feathering on each leg started. The tail of the coat was split into four panels, one for each leg with the rear two covering her flanks as well. 

She wore a white dress shirt under the coat, with a leather waistcoat with buckles in the front between the two. Sturdy trousers covered each leg, connecting to a somewhat complex garment that covered her lower body, fastened with a number of buttons and straps. 

A red scarf went around her neck and trailed down the left side of her chest, whilst a black tricorn hat with tattered, feather-like edges in the back sat on her head. Gloves covered her hands, and dull steel greaves and vambraces with etched, twisting designs protected her forearms and lower legs. The greaves led into boots that encapsulated her hooves entirely.

Don’t recognise me, don’t recognise me, Ilia silently pleaded. Though Atala had never been in the White Fang proper, like many faunus from Mistral Below Atala had done odd jobs to help them out now and then. Ilia had been involved in some of those jobs, and she counted herself lucky Atala hadn’t encountered her at all before they all started wearing masks.

“Hello,” Atala said, her voice barely above a whisper, apparently trying to retreat into her coat. Atala glanced across Team ISSN, meeting Ilia’s eyes briefly but moving on without any apparent recognition. Ilia managed to avoid her relief from showing.

“You’re a centaur, that’s cool!” Sun exclaimed, grinning broadly.

“... Is it?” Atala asked quietly, shuffling backwards slightly, her tail flicking.

“You’re captivating, Atala,” Fiore emphasised with a dazzling smile at her teammate. Atala’s cheeks flushed at the praise, eyes widening as she hunched her shoulders, trying to hide behind the raised collar of her coat. Ilia glanced at Fiore, studying her for a moment. It was an openly flirtatious remark, but then Fiore had done exactly the same thing to her.

Is she just like that? She didn’t do it with Sun, and she probably couldn’t tell I’m a faunus… Ilia’s introspection was cut short as Fiore glanced back at ISSN, still beaming brightly.

“I’d love to stay and chat a little longer, but I’m afraid prior obligations call. Francesca has a service, and my family needs me for something or other,” she said regretfully. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other during this mission, though. Ciao ciao!” she said, waving as she began to lead her team away

“Oh, see ya,” Sun said, waving after Team APAL as they began to depart. “They seem nice,” he decided.

“I wasn’t aware you were familiar with the Agliancos,” Pyrrha said, looking curiously at Weiss. “I’m glad you have some friends here, though,” she added with a smile.

“As I said, we met on my first visit to Argoz,” Weiss reminded her. Ilia frowned thoughtfully.

Aglianco, Aglianco… Why do I know that name? Something to look up later. For now… “I guess we’d better make sure our things are packed. And figure out some tactics if we need to fight on a boat…”

Chapter Text

Back in her room, Ilia frowned at the screen of her laptop. Electronic devices like this had been provided to students like her as part of Providence’s financial support program, though lingering paranoia had prompted her to look for any trackers installed on it. She hadn’t found any, though the question of whether she was actually skilled enough to find them occasionally appeared in the back of her mind.

Regardless of any lingering concerns, she was presently preoccupied with something else; trying to discover where she knew the name ‘Aglianco’ from. First, she opted for the obvious, typing ‘Aglianco Argoz’ into the search bar. She was quickly presented with an encyclopaedia article about the Aglianco family, and clicked the hyperlink marked ‘History’.

Oh. She blinked at what she saw. Oh they’re old money. “One of the ruling families of Collento, the Aglianco family became part of Argoz’ Maggior Consiglio when the city entered the republic…” She scrolled down the page, starting to scowl a little as she saw just how long the Aglianco family had been involved in the Republic’s plutocratic politics.

Then she reached a section that ignited a flash of anger. ‘The gold and silver mines of Collento provided the Aglianco family with its historic wealth and influence, and to this day the family retains ownership of most of Collento’s mines.’

They’re another family of fucking mining oligarchs. Memories surfaced from her childhood, a much younger Ilia hiding at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping on her parents in the kitchen below. Complaints about poor safety practices. Unsympathetic and uncompromising superiors only interested in lining the wallets of the Atlesian elite. The day of the collapse…

Ilia inhaled sharply through her nose, closing her eyes and clenching her fists. I can’t get away from them, can I? Opening her eyes, burrows firmly furrowed in a scowl, she continued to scroll. Where is it… ‘Controversies’, there we are. With vindictive glee, she began reading. 

As expected, the first few paragraphs detailed the family’s involvement with the slavery, exploitation, and privateering of the early Republic. Whatever validation of her feelings she felt from that fact, though, was tempered by the fact that the family’s involvement in the slave trade ended over four hundred years ago, two generations ahead of the Republic outlawing the practice.

And everyone was involved in conquest and piracy and all that back then… Trying not to linger on the family’s abolitionist leanings towards the end of slavery in the Republic, leanings which continued up to the Great War and the end of legal slavery across Remnant, she scrolled further. I need something more recent, something modern. Why she needed some evidence of misdeeds, she couldn’t quite identify. There was just something driving her spiteful curiosity.

“‘Controversy surrounding Fiore’?” she muttered. “Has she done something wrong? ‘The controversy regarding Fiore Aidani Aglianco, the family heiress, began in April 76 V.C.’—” four and a half years ago, “—when news broke that Fiore, then ██████, was trans-’.” She quickly scrolled past that paragraph, mentally trying to block out the name she’d just read.

Instantly, she tasted ash, shame filling her once again. Nice job, Ilia. You were so busy gleefully trying to find her family’s dirty laundry like the fucking paparazzi that you found out her deadname. Good fucking job. She groaned, covering her face with her hands. Dragging her hands down again, she looked back at the screen for a moment.

… Well, you might as well see what the family was doing, she thought, scrolling back up slowly, careful not to go far enough up to see her deadname again. “‘The Aglianco family, in line with their vocal and financial support of LGBTQ+ causes, strongly supported Fiore. The media response, however, was mixed, especially amongst Mistrali publications, who took a broadly negative view…’

“Gods, what kind of ass am I?” she groused. “She got her name dragged through the mud by the media, and here you are trying to dig up dirt on her.” She lent forward to hit her forehead on her desk. “Ow…”

… They are still a mining family, though, her brain reminded her, causing her to grumble. Now you’ve got two very pretty rich girls to have mixed feelings about. Well done.

“Whoever invented mornings needs to be left in the desert…” Sun grumbled, before yawning and rubbing at his eyes. Beside him, Weiss made a noise of agreement, glaring at nothing in particular as she fought to stay awake.

“I did say to get plenty of rest,” Pyrrha pointed out, smiling brightly. By contrast, Ilia and Pyrrha were fully alert. Though Ilia still felt that it was still too early to be as cheerful as Pyrrha seemed.

“Maybe they’ll have coffee onboard,” Ilia offered, looking at the ship they were soon due to board. The Carefree remained unchanged since their brief voyage on it at the end of initiation, though the sailors on board looked older and more experienced than the trainee coastguards from last time.

“They’d better,” Weiss said darkly, her eyes focussing on the ship. Ilia snorted faintly, glancing around for any sign of Team APAL.

“I hope our comrades aren’t late,” Pyrrha said, apparently sharing Ilia’s concern. At that moment, the absent team rounded the corner of the dock, the unmistakable figure of Fiore waving at them, something in her other hand.

“Good morning!” she said cheerfully in Argosi as her team approached, the item in her hand soon identifiable as a cardboard tray with four cups of coffee. “I brought coffee! I knew Weiss would need some.” Weiss darted past Ilia, seizing the offered cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she muttered quickly, taking a swig from it. Fiore giggled, turning to the rest of them.

“I didn’t know your orders, so I’ve got some creamer and sugar as well,” she said, holding the tray out. Ilia took one of the offered coffees with a muttered ‘thank you’, along with a packet of sugar and a packet of creamer. As she added both to her coffee, she took a moment to look at the rest of the team. Both Pandora and Atala looked like Ilia felt; alert, but with that distinct undercurrent of ‘I wish I didn’t need to be here’. Fiore seemed roughly the same, though a little happier.

Francesca, however, was the worst out of both teams. She looked barely awake, swaying on her feet, bags under her eyes. As Ilia watched, her eyelids drooped closed, head dipping forwards. She leant to the side, threatening to fall over before being caught by Pandora. She jerked awake again, blinking rapidly as her teammate gently tipped her back onto her feet and pressed a cup of coffee into her hands.

After taking in their various states of wakefulness, Ilia turned her attention to their weapons. Draped over one of Francesca’s shoulders by a pair of chains was an ornate censer a little larger than her head. The holes in the top of the censer were arranged like a star chart, the body made of polished brass and oddly segmented. 

The other end of the paired chains was attached to a long handle, each chain connecting to a brass loop. The handle itself was brass down the centre, with dark wood scales either side. A hinge and latch were present at the opposite end to the chains, which along with the seam in the brass implied the handle could fold out, though for what purpose Ilia couldn’t quite tell.

Pandora’s weapon seemed much more straightforward. A multi-barreled rifle was worn on her back by way of a sling, the stock thick and heavily reinforced. The dangerous end of the weapon consisted of a single wide-bore barrel, with four lower calibre ones arranged around it. Ilia realised with a touch of incredulity that the arrangement was shaped like a cat’s paw.

The weapon’s furniture was a dark and polished, if slightly scuffed, wood, some cloth wrapped around the grip and cheek rest. A slot in the bottom of the stock, along with a recessed level in the side, housed a pair of blades, Ilia recalling seeing them during the first combat class, which allowed Pandora to use her rifle as a bladed club when deployed.

Atala, meanwhile, seemed to be carrying an armoury with her. On the side currently facing Ilia, she spied a curved, rather brutal-looking cleaver of some description. The blade was broad, affixed to a handle bent like a stretched letter ‘s’. The outward-facing edge of the cleaver featured vicious, serrated teeth, the blade itself forged of a dark metal still mostly covered in forge scale, wrapped in tattered bandages and carved with odd runes. 

The hinge at the top of the weapon hinted that the blade could swing outwards, which would expose the sharpened, straight-edged edge for use. The handle was also wrapped in rags, and beside the weapon was slung a firearm with a cavernously large bore, the barrel hexagonal and reinforced with bands like those found on especially old-fashioned cannons.

The arrangement of the blunderbuss indicated it was breech-loaded, the barrel and breech mounted to sturdy-looking wooden furniture. The grip flowed straight into the stock, which split into two ‘trunks’ before terminating in a metal buttplate, whilst the trigger was protected by a long, arching knucklebow.

Though Ilia couldn’t see it at that moment, she recalled seeing Atala using a lance that could segment apart into a sort of whip during the team’s match against a professional hunter. That weapon had looked just as rough and brutal as the cleaver. The aesthetic of her weapons, combined with her outfit, leant Atala a slightly menacing air.

Finally, she looked to Fiore. To all outward appearances, the umbrella she carried was a mundane, if elaborate, parasol, currently closed and looped over a wrist. The outside of the canopy was a pale gold colour with purple trim and decorative patterns, as well as a frilly purple rim and bows around the lip. At the top of the umbrella, a hollow tube extended several inches, the mouth of the tube a couple of inches wide with a reinforced lip. The interior of the umbrella flipped the colours, primarily purple with gold as the secondary colour. 

The grip was gold, shaped roughly like a sword hilt without a guard, a geometric design engraved into it, whilst the pole that connected it with the canopy was black. The base of the grip, what would have been called a pommel on a sword, was currently extended away from the rest of the handle, telescoped out and hooked around to allow the umbrella to hang from Fiore’s wrist.

Having seen Fiore in action, Ilia had seen the ‘umbrella’ in action. Beyond simply being able to bludgeon her opponents with it, the umbrella also contained a cannon capable of loading dust shells of a considerable calibre. Ilia wasn’t quite sure how much dust the weapon consumed, but she reckoned it to be far beyond her own budget’s ability to supply.

After refreshing herself on Team APAL’s weapons, she turned her attention to the odd device apparently following Fiore around. It was an oblong box, about three and a half feet long and tall and two feet wide, hovering six inches off the ground thanks to a gravity dust hover unit on the base. 

The main body of it was panelled in black, with gold and wooden trim. Seams running around it hinted at drawers or cupboards that could swing open, though Ilia had no idea what it could contain. Festooned around it, secured with temporary elastic cords, were what she assumed to be Team APAL’s bags for the week.

“Uhh, what’s that?” Sun asked, pointing at the floating box.

“Hm?” Fiore asked, looking where he was pointing. “Oh! That’s Nera, my caddy!”

“Your… Caddy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mhm! She carries ammunition for me, as well as a few other essentials,” she explained. “She’s programmed to follow me around, unless I tell her not to. Nera, stay,” she ordered, switching to Argosi. The floating box let out a musical beep, and Fiore walked a short distance away.

“Nera, heel!” The box beeped twice, and floated towards Fiore, stopping once it was close enough again. Fiore gave a satisfied smile, before patting the box. 

“That’s cool,” Sun said. “But why do you need a robot to carry your ammo?”

Because she’s a rich girl who doesn’t do hard work, Ilia snarked privately.

“Good question. It’s because…” she began, moving one of the bags aside and opening a hatch, reaching inside Nera before pulling something out. “This is the ammunition I use!” The object in her hand was far beyond a mere bullet. It was more akin to a light artillery shell or mortar round. And judging by the symbol on the side of it, the one currently being held was loaded with fire dust.

“Sixty millimetre shells!” she announced happily, before carefully returning it to storage. “They’re very effective at killing grimm, and I have a few specialist rounds, but they’re quite bulky. So, I have Nera to carry them.”

“Ohh. That makes sense,” Sun said with a nod, evidently satisfied with that explanation.

Does he not realise just how much that thing must have cost? Ilia wondered.

“When I pointed out logistical issues with your plans for your weapon, this isn’t the solution I thought you’d arrive at,” Weiss observed, looking at Nera with interest.

“Maybe not, but it works, no?” Fiore asked, grinning. “Your help with the mathematics for Voice of Gold was very helpful, sorry I haven’t been able to show you the results so far,” she apologised. Ilia glanced at Weiss, surprised by the slightly jealous flash she felt.

“It’s alright, we’ll have time on the ship,” Weiss said. “Oh, we should probably sync our scrolls up if we’re all going to be working together. For aura levels.”

“Oh yeah, good idea,” Sun agreed, fishing out his scroll. A brief huddle later, and the two teams’ aura levels were displayed on all of their scrolls. Ilia took the time to quickly familiarise herself with Team APAL’s emblems. Fiore’s was a sunburst with wavy rays emitting from it, halfway over a flat horizon. Francesca’s emblem was a treble-clef surrounded by a constellation, whilst Pandora’s was a stylised, cartoonish face of an angry cat.

It took Ilia a few seconds to come up with a description for Atala’s emblem. In keeping with her weapons, it was rougher than the other emblems, consisting of a single vertical line with a diamond at the base, the bottom corner removed to create something like an inverted trident, with the outer points bent inwards. A hollow, pointed ellipse was then placed within the diamond, giving the impression of a bisected eye with the vertical line splitting it.

Creepy, Ilia thought, before closing her scroll and pocketing it again. Looking back up, she straightened her posture slightly as a crewmember from the Carefree approached the group.

“Team APAL, Team ISSN?” he asked, looking the group over quickly. “We’re ready for you to come aboard.”

Chapter Text

The process of being brought onboard the Carefree was somewhat novel for Pyrrha. First of all was the process of checking in their weapons and supplies. Much like at Providence, rather than keeping their weapons with them they instead had to be stowed in armouries at the fore and aft of the ship, just below the weatherdeck. Unlike at Providence, however, they weren’t in rocket lockers, creating an odd feeling of vulnerability. She’d even had to turn in the dust crystals in her hat, losing the ever-present jingling when she wore it.

Some of the students had more pronounced reactions to being disarmed than others. Pandora and Atala were most noteworthy in that, both being extremely reluctant to hand over their weapons. It took some coaxing from Francesca and Fiore, respectively, to persuade them. Afterwards, Pandora seemed agitated, whilst Atala looked even more anxious than usual.

After that, they were shown to their cabin. Cabin, singular, she thought, hiding a grimace. The interior of the ship was somewhat at odds with the wood-hulled exterior, the inside bulkheads instead being metal, modern, and spartan in design. Electric lighting bathed the corridors in slightly washed-out illumination, and exposed pipes ran this way and that, forcing Pyrrha to duck frequently.

“Here’s your cabin for the week you’re with us,” the sailor showing them around said, speaking in Valean for the benefit of those that didn’t speak Argosi. “We’ve done what we can to accommodate for you all, but space is always a premium on these boats. Carpenter knocked together a special thing for you,” he added, nodding to Atala, who gave a mumbled ‘thanks’.

The sailor opened the door, leading them in. The cabin was a little cramped with nine people inside, especially with one of them being Atala. Eight bunks were arranged along the walls, stacked two high, with cabinets, folding tables, and cupboards filling the rest of the wall space. A few curtains on rails could be pulled out to provide a measure of privacy when changing, and each bunk had a small curtain as well.

A good chunk of space in the middle of the cabin was occupied with a couple of mattresses and a pile of blankets, along with a wooden frame with some fabric stretched across it, like half of a beach chair.

“The bunk on the floor is for you,” the sailor said to Atala. “Since you wouldn’t fit in the normal bunks.”

I think I’m going to struggle as well, Pyrrha thought, glancing at the bunks anxiously and mentally comparing against her own height.

“Now, the captain has asked me to give you all a quick few pointers and rules about being aboard this ship. Some are courtesy things, some are potentially life-or-death.” He began by walking over to a floor level cabinet emblazoned with a yellow diamond with a flame decal. “Fire extinguishers are in there. If there’s a fire onboard, it’s all hands on deck to fight it, yourselves included. You won’t be expected to use the hoses, but you’ll probably need the extinguishers. We’ll show you how to use the pumps later.”

He continued on, showing them the life jackets, explaining the evacuation and lifeboat procedures. “If you see an officer running down the hall, get out of the way. If you see a sailor running down the hall and yelling their head off, get out of the way. If we’re at battlestations, stay out of the corridors. If we’re doing a rescue, we’ll want you on the topdeck in case of grimm, but try to keep out of the way of the sailors.

“That’s it for the life-or-death stuff. For the courtesy stuff… I understand you’ll be eating in the crew’s mess with the other enlisted. Mealtimes are every six hours, the extra one’s for those on night watch. When you go to eat, you go in the line after the sailors about to go on watch,” he emphasised, expression deadly serious. “If the people going on watch are delayed in getting food, that means they’re delayed in relieving the people currently on watch, and no one wants that.

“The last big thing is 'field day'. Once a week, everyone cleans. Captain'll decide what you help out with, but expect to pitch in with that. Other than that, just try not to cause issues, and if anyone gives you hassle, let one of the POs know. Er, that’s Petty Officer,” he explained. “Any questions?” When none were forthcoming, he nodded. “Alright, I’ll let you unpack. Oh, laundry’s on the next deck down, wash facilities and head are at the end of the hall. Try to time your showers halfway through watches, word of advice.”

With that, he ducked out, leaving the two teams alone in their cabin. “... I had at least envisioned separate cabins for each team,” Weiss commented, poking at the mattress on one of the bunks with a small pout.

“I’ve slept in worse,” Pandora said flatly. “But, yeah, the rooms at Providence are swankier.”

“It’s not exactly a luxury cruise,” Fiore agreed. “At least the curtains give us some privacy…” Pyrrha grimaced slightly at the idea of sharing a room. “Oh well, let’s just get our things unpacked. Maybe the cabin will feel a little less cramped once it’s all stowed away.”

It’ll be a new experience, at least, Pyrrha mused, picking one of the cupboards at random and starting to unpack. At some point during the unpacking process whilst sitting by her suitcase, Francesca slowly rotated over onto her side, having fallen asleep.

“Not again,” Pandora sighed, moving to help her teammate. “Hey. Hey, Fran. C’mon, let’s get you into a bunk,” she urged, guiding a half-asleep Francesca into one of the bunks, helping her roll in. She was more tender about the process than Pyrrha had expected from the gruff Pandora.

“Does that happen often?” Sun asked, peering curiously at the pair.

“Francesca’s a bit of a night owl. She stayed up too late watching the stars,” Pandora said. “Again,” she added with a sigh. As the two teams continued unpacking, there was eventually a knock on the cabin door, which startled Francesca back to wakefulness.

“I’m up I’m up!” she declared, squirming her way off the bunk again. Sharing a look with Pyrrha, Weiss walked over to the door and opened it, revealing Captain Silver standing on the other side.

“Team ISSN, Team APAL,” he said, glancing at them all. “Good, you’re already settling in. Make sure you stow everything properly; every cupboard needs to latch closed, and anything not stored away needs to be strapped down. We don’t want any suitcases hurtling across the room in rough seas.”

“Yes sir,” Weiss said, nodding before turning to look at Sun, who sheepishly began moving things from one slightly over-stuffed cupboard to an emptier one.

“Good. Now, Miss Lucci?” Francesca perked up a little, smiling at Silver.

“Yes, Captain?” she asked.

“As you might have anticipated, I’ve already told the crew not to extend any special courtesy towards you based on your relation to your sister.” Francesca nodded, clearly unsurprised by his statement. “That said, I would still like to offer use of the mess between meals if you would like to hold services for the sailors onboard.”

“Services?” Weiss asked, looking curiously at Francesca.

“Thank you, Captain, I would very much like to,” Francesca replied cheerfully, despite her lingering fatigue. “Should I discuss the details with you, or…?”

“One of the PO’s will be able to help out with that,” he said. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get back to the bridge.” He waited for a moment, before nodding and walking away. Weiss closed the door after he had left, and Pyrrha studied Francesca curiously.

Frequently up late looking at the stars, able to offer some sort of services, Argosi native… “Francesca, are you a priestess?” Pyrrha asked, tilting her head.

“Mhm!” Francesca confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “I am an ordained Diviner of Asterism, specifically with the Stellata dell'Occhio Settentrionale del Cielo!”

“Ohh, the big temple in Argoz that we saw!” Sun chimed in. “So, you work there?”

“Sort of? If you call worship ‘work’,” Francesca answered. She then hefted the tome hanging from the strap at her waist. “Being a Diviner means I can lead services, do divinations, hear confessions… All the usual stuff, really.”

“That’s cool!” Sun exclaimed, grinning broadly. “Ohhh, is that why you were up too late? Star-worship stuff?”

“Yeah…” Francesca admitted bashfully.

“Why did the captain mention your sister and special treatment?” Weiss then asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Oh, my sister’s in the coastguard,” Francesca replied. “She… Sort of runs the Argosi coastguard, actually.”

“‘Sort of’?” Weiss echoed, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, the actual head of the Argosi coastguard isn’t very good at his job,” Francesca said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Celeste, my sister, has to do his job as well as being the actual second-in-command.”

“The de jure commander of Argoz’ coastguard is a Mistrali puppet,” Fiore chimed in, keeping her voice down as well. “Worse, he’s a collaborator.” The amount of venom Fiore managed to fit into that single word took Pyrrha off-guard. “The only reason he got the position was because his friends in Mistral gave it to him.”

“I thought people in Argoz didn’t like having Mistral rule them?” Sun asked, frowning. “Why would he work with them?”

“To prop up his family’s failing powerbase,” Fiore snarked. “The Chieri family are Argosi nobility, but their influence has been in decline for decades. So they’ve turned to our imperial overlords, selling out Argoz in exchange for positions of authority.”

“You have strong opinions, I take it?” Ilia asked flatly.

You have no idea, Pyrrha thought privately. Though she hadn’t interacted much with Fiore when they met at that gala, she knew enough about her politics to get an idea for how fiery her rhetoric could get.

“The Agliancos, the Chieris… We are Argosi nobility,” Fiore emphasised, gesturing animatedly with her hands. “We are supposed to safeguard Argoz and look to the security, prosperity, and welfare of its people. That is noblesse oblige, that is what is expected of us. Not kissing the boots of foreign oppressors.” She waved her hands sharply in the direction she assumed Mistral to be, scoffing.

Ilia opened her mouth to respond, before catching herself and closing it again. Pyrrha blinked, spotting a flash of guilt pass her leader’s face. Pyrrha then glanced at Weiss, who was putting an emptied suitcase away. Maybe she’s second-guessing getting into arguments? she wondered.

“Well, politics aside,” Pyrrha began, opting to step into the silence. “We still need to unpack.”

“Right, we should get that done before we’re asked to do anything else,” Pandora agreed. “Atala, scoot your ass, I need to get in that locker.”

“Oh, sorry…” Atala shuffled out of the way of the locker Pandora was trying to access, her tail flicking once. Pyrrha looked over at her, remembering the question she’d been meaning to ask.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Atala.” Atala turned to look at her, eyes widening, clearly not expecting Pyrrha to address her directly. “I was curious about the design of your weapons, I’ve never really seen anything like them before. Did you design them yourself?”

“Oh, um, yes, I did,” Atala answered haltingly, fidgeting nervously. “And built them. I apprenticed with a blacksmith in Mistral Below, so…”

“Ahh. I didn’t build Marrotte myself, but I had a hand in the design. The aesthetics are interesting, where did you get the ideas for them?” she asked, smiling encouragingly at her. For some reason, the smile only seemed to make Atala more flighty.

“Umm… They just… Came to me in dreams, I guess?” Atala answered uncertainly.

“What sort of dreams do you have?” Ilia asked, a touch incredulously. “I mean, we’ve seen them work and they look effective, but they look like props from a horror movie.” Fiore looked up from her suitcase, giving Ilia a sharp, warning look.

“I didn’t say they were nice dreams,” Atala replied. “They started when I was about thirteen. I’m in a strange city with tall, giant stone buildings. It’s always night, and it’s always foggy. There’s a few people around, but they all seem… Off. And there’s a lot of monsters, I think they’re grimm.” She frowned, looking down as she recalled more details.

“And there’s a hunt. There’s always a hunt. And a hunt needs hunters, but they’re not like normal ones. The outfits aren’t bright, the fighting isn’t… Flashy. They’re dressed to blend in with the dark, and when they fight the beasts it’s very… Visceral.” There was something in the way Atala almost lingered on the word that concerned Pyrrha, causing her to frown slightly.

“The, umm,” Atala continued, seeming to catch herself. “The design of my weapons is based on what I see in those dreams. And my outfit. Some of my techniques as well…”

“And they’re very effective against the grimm,” Fiore said, in a tone both reassuring and authoritative. “It’s what makes you our fantastic front-line, Atala,” she added, giving Atala a warm smile. Atala met her gaze, returning it with a shy smile of her own before lowering her head again.

“Th-thanks,” she stuttered.

“Oh, you’re Team APAL’s frontline?” Sun asked. “Makes sense. I don’t think we’ve really decided on one yet for ISSN,” he commented, glancing at the rest of his team.

“Sun or Pyrrha, if we had to cement someone in the role,” Weiss immediately said, remaining engrossed in the process of stowing her bags away. “We’re all very competent melee fighters and doubtless could hold our own in the front, but you two are bigger and physically stronger than Ilia and I. 

“My glyphs make me a serious threat no matter where I am or what I’m doing on the battlefield, but they’re most effective when I have a little distance. That, and in a team context I think they’d be better used aiding the entire team rather than just myself. And Ilia’s the team leader; she should be in a position where she can keep an eye on the flow of the battle, and give us instructions that suit the situation.”

There was more than a little pride in Weiss’ summary of her own ability, Pyrrha noticed. But it wasn’t pure arrogance. She was very used to hubris from other tournament fighters, and often in the performing arts as well. From Weiss, the words felt purely confident, like she knew her worth as a fighter and didn’t shy away from outright stating it. It was something Pyrrha couldn’t help but admire a little.

“By contrast, Sun and Pyrrha’s fighting styles are much more heavily focussed on front-line duty. Even the ranged attacks of your weapon work best at point-blank range, the staff form gives you a great defensive option, and the nunchuck form is difficult to predict,” she continued, gesturing to Sun without ever quite looking directly at him. “As for Pyrrha… Well, her tournament track record is perfect; discounting our bout against the headmaster, she’s unbeaten.” 

And there it was, the praise. Even now, Pyrrha wasn’t sure how to take it. It’s not a lack of confidence, I know my talents. I just… I like winning, I like fighting, I like performing. I just don’t like being put on a pedestal. And of course I’m never going to actually say anything about it… And there was something else, something about it coming from Weiss that made Pyrrha feel oddly flustered.

“Thank you Weiss, but I think losing to Captain Caspian should count. I’ve still got a lot of improving to do,” Pyrrha countered, scratching the back of her head.

“Correct,” Weiss agreed, catching Pyrrha flat-footed.

She… Agreed? Normally people would just dismiss that and keep praising me… She actually listened to what I said? Pyrrha thought in wonder.

“In any case, I don’t think ISSN would benefit from formally assigning a front-line,” Weiss continued, oblivious to Pyrrha’s shock. “As I said, we can all perform the role. And the two ‘best’ picks for it have abilities that would serve them well on the flanks or in support. Like Sun’s semblance, or Pyrrha’s wings.”

“Hmm, well reasoned,” Fiore said, nodding her head and smiling. “Diligent as ever, Weiss,” she complimented her. For some reason, that made Weiss blush a little.

“T-thanks, Fiore,” she said, clearing her throat.

Sometime later, Pyrrha was enjoying the fresh sea air above deck. She was at the back of the ship, well out of the way of sailors hurrying to and fro. The topside of the Carefree repeated the theme of the belowdecks, with modern instruments and fixtures sharply contrasted against the wooden hull and decking. Air dust turbines stood idle, ready to provide wind for the sails at a moment’s notice, and all manner of rescue and anti-grimm equipment lined the sides of the deck.

 In front of Pyrrha as she leant against the rail was the steadily-retreating city of Argoz. The Carefree hadn’t yet left the central lagoon for the open sea, so the city still rolled out to her left and right as well across islands and the arching mainland. Other vessels dotted the waters, from small leisure craft enjoying the quiet morning hours, to larger passenger liners, to the gargantuan cargo ships. That last group was confined to a single port close to one mouth of the lagoon, and only permitted entry when tended by a fleet of tugboats.

The cry of a sea bird brought her gaze up, spotting a small flight of seagulls overhead, having apparently mistaken the Carefree for a fishing boat. She smiled softly, taking the time to flare her colourful wings to their full span, grunting as she stretched. They flapped once, before furling against her back again.

“Always a lovely view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice addressed her in Argosi. Turning her head, Pyrrha spotted Fiore casually making her way towards her, a friendly smile on her face. She returned the smile, trying to figure out why Fiore made her thoughts derail. Stopping a polite distance away from Pyrrha, Fiore leant against the same railing and sighed happily, looking out at Argoz.

“It is,” Pyrrha agreed, speaking her native tongue as well. She took the moment to study Fiore’s expression. The joy on her face as she watched the city was genuine, as was the sparkle in her eyes. Fiore’s eyes darted down and to the left, spotting a small sailing yacht somewhat close to the Carefree. Grinning, she leant up onto her tiptoes and doffed her large hat, waving it over her head as she signalled the yacht.

“Hello!” she called, receiving a cheer in response from the passengers of the yacht, and a friendly salute from the one at the wheel. Laughing to herself, she donned her hat again, adjusting it back to its customarily rakish angle. She then let out a contented sigh, leaning more heavily on her elbows.

It was easy for Pyrrha to tell how earnestly Fiore adored Argoz. It didn’t surprise her, not after hearing even briefly how passionately Fiore felt about the current political climate, nor after considering her family’s history and position.

“I don’t get out on the water as much as I’d like,” Fiore admitted. “Always something going on. Training, tutors, public appearances, family commitments… I don’t suppose I’ll get much more free time for it at Providence either,” she added with a sigh, though she didn’t lose her smile. “What about you, Pyrrha?” she asked, tilting her head to look at her. “Fond of boats?”

“I’ve been on them a few times,” Pyrrha answered. “I have an uncle that runs a small fishing business and I spent some time one summer with him. That and my parents taking me on day trips, tours in the gondolas of course,” she reminisced, a small smile appearing on her face.

“The gondola tours are very popular, even with us natives,” Fiore joked, smirking. “I still need to arrange one for my team, though I’m having trouble convincing Atala to give it a try. She’s worried she’d be too big for the boats.”

“You’ve been showing your team the city, then?” Pyrrha asked.

“Of course! You’ve been doing the same?” Pyrrha nodded. “Good. It’s important our friends get to see Argoz for all its beauty, appreciate how much we—” Fiore gestured to Pyrrha, and then broadly around the city itself “—have put into making it beautiful, and appreciate the place they’re going to be living for at least the next four years. 

“And, it’s equally important for the people of Argoz to fly its banner proudly, so to speak. I mean, you could have had your pick of any academy on Remnant, I’m sure,” Fiore continued. “Instead of picking one of the established, ‘old guard’, you picked our brand-new Providence with a single class graduated so far. And I can only imagine that Haven tried to sweeten the deal somehow?” she guessed.

Pyrrha huffed faintly. As much as she wasn’t keen on Fiore putting her on a pedestal like that, she couldn’t say she was wrong . “You’re right, they did. They offered me a few things, actually. One offer was basically an advertising deal, with them paying me so they could use my likeness to boost the profile of Haven. Other offers were guaranteed leadership positions, bonus academic credits, that sort of thing.”

“That’s repulsive,” Fiore said flatly, grimacing at the idea. “Gods, imagine how many rich kids at Haven are getting those sorts of deals.”

“Mm. I wasn’t happy with the idea of signing my likeness away to Haven, and the other offers were insulting. I thought picking Providence was a fitting response to that,” she said. “... I realise that makes me sound spiteful—”

“Not at all,” Fiore assured her quickly. “Not at all. Control over your image is extremely important for clowns, I’ve heard?” she asked.

“Very much so, yes,” Pyrrha confirmed. “I already have enough issues with counterfeit merchandise, let alone what Haven would do with my image…”

“That sort of move is absolutely typical of Mistral,” Fiore huffed. “Just, exploiting Argoz and its people for everything they can, whilst pretending they’re not still an occupying oppressor. Like they don’t do everything they can to keep us down.” There was a distinct change in Fiore’s demeanour, Pyrrha noticed. Earlier she’d been genial, good-humoured even as she shared her complaints and commiserated with Pyrrha. Now, though, her tone was turning heated, bitter.

“They call you the ‘Jester of Mistral’ like you belong to them,” she continued, gesturing at Pyrrha again, “and they crow about their gold and silver production like it doesn’t come from my family. And in the next breath, they turn around and drag us through the mud because of our identities.”

Ah. Pyrrha grimaced. She tried not to think about the time the Mistrali publications got wind that she was trans, but she could never forget some of the headlines, or the commentary. Nor could she forget hearing about similar articles about Fiore when her family announced her transition and their unwavering support for her. Articles that almost scared me back into the closet…

“They said vicious things about me and my family, and I saw the mud-slinging they did to you as well,” Fiore spat, gesturing sharply with a trembling hand. “The gall to profit off of us at the same time…” She slammed her hand back down on the railing, hunching forwards slightly. “I was twelve…” 

Her voice caught in her throat. She leant further forwards, taking shaking breaths. Gently, Pyrrha put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s awful, I know,” she said reassuringly. Fiore swallowed, nodding once before lifting her head again with a gasp.

“Sorry. For… Getting emotional like this,” Fiore said, delicately wiping her eyes. She then huffed bitterly. “I was trying to be all righteous and confident, not… Upset and angry.”

“It’s okay, I… I get it, I… I hate it as well.” She wanted to say more. She wanted to join Fiore in venting. Getting angry, outspoken. But I can’t. Not like she can. After lingering in uncomfortable silence for a moment, Pyrrha spoke again. “On the previous topic… How’s it been for APAL as a team?” she asked. It was far from the most elegant change of topic, and something about the idea that Fiore could have done better made her feel oddly self-conscious.

“It’s been going well!” Fiore said, perking up visibly and giving Pyrrha a grateful look. “It was a little rocky to start, I will admit. Pandora, and Atala to a degree, resented taking instruction from a ‘pampered rich girl’, and Francesca was a little scared of Atala in the beginning, but we’ve worked past all that. Now I’m just trying to get Pandora and Atala to accept me supplying them with extra dust isn’t charity.”

“Francesca was scared of Atala?” Pyrrha asked, tilting her head. “But she seems so sweet. And shy,” she added.

“She gets a bit into it when fighting,” Fiore explained. “Maybe you’ll see it if we run into any grimm out here. How about your team?” Pyrrha frowned, humming once.

“There’s some issues still, but they’re being addressed, I think,” she began, noncommittal. “Sun is a lot more mature than he lets on, and more sensible than he tends to act. Weiss is easier to get along with than I would have thought. I… Regret to admit I had some reservations about her to start.”

“And your leader? How does Arlecchina like taking orders from someone else?” Fiore asked, her joking tone taking the usual sting out of Pyrrha’s title.

“I think I get on well with Ilia. It’s… I can’t quite get a read on her a lot of the time. To be honest, when we first met I was worried she was some sort of super-fan,” Pyrrha admitted. Fiore arched an eyebrow, tilting her head.

“What gave you that impression?” she asked.

“Well, when we came across each other during initiation, she looked utterly shocked when she saw me! Just, completely slack-jawed, eyes wide. She could barely string complete words together right away. But she hasn’t said anything about it since, so I really don’t know,” Pyrrha said, mystified. Fiore, meanwhile, stared at her, blinking once.

“And you have absolutely no idea why she reacted like that?” Fiore asked, her tone completely deadpan.

“None at all,” Pyrrha confirmed. Then, catching Fiore’s tone, she asked, “why, do you have an idea?”

“... The clown makeup fits this situation, I think,” Fiore said, smirking mischievously. “I’m going to go see if there’s anything we should be doing right about now. Ciao!” Pyrrha blinked rapidly, tracking Fiore as she left.

“The clown— What does that mean? Fiore? Fiore?!” Fiore just laughed, waving over her shoulder at Pyrrha. … I really feel like I’m missing something here, she groused mentally, turning to look back out at Argoz again. … Probably not that important.

Chapter Text

Lunch in the Carefree’s mess reminded Pyrrha of Sanctum, she’d decided. Queuing in line for food made with an eye towards cost per given nutritional value, sitting at a table slightly too small for her comfort, in a crowded room of people she didn’t know. At least the sailors aren’t quite as rowdy as some kids got in Sanctum, she reflected, before grimacing as someone accidentally brushed against her wings again. But the dining hall at Sanctum was bigger…

Teams APAL and ISSN had found themselves on a table of their own, the sailors apparently content to leave the hunters-in-training to their own devices. That didn’t mean they weren’t paying attention to them, however. “We’ve got a bit of an audience,” Ilia muttered, glancing past Pyrrha at yet another cluster of sailors who had motioned in their direction.

“Well, we are hunters, ones in training at least,” Fiore pointed out. “We do stick out like a collection of sore thumbs. They could stand to be a little less blatant, though,” she granted before taking another bite of her meal.

“I don’t think it’s our choice in career that’s making them stare,” Pandora said, squinting slightly. One of her ears flicked. “They’re talking about Pyrrha, Fiore, Atala, and Weiss the most.” Atala made a quiet, unhappy-sounding noise, whilst Weiss huffed. Pyrrha tried not to grimace at the blunt declaration of what she already suspected.

And now that fact was cemented in her brain, she couldn’t help but tune in more to the conversations happening around her. “I can’t believe the ‘Arlecchina’ is on our ship!”

“I know, right?” she heard a sailor respond excitedly. “Stars, she’s hot as well. What’s that Valean line? ‘Hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave’?”

“Why’d you wanna watch her— Ohh, you mean her ass!” Grimacing, Pyrrha did her best to block out the rest of that conversation, searching for another to occupy her attention instead.

“I can’t believe she wears that much makeup all the time. That’s gotta be a huge pain.”

“I heard they’re tattoos, and only the full clown get-up is actual makeup,” another sailor chimed in, to Pyrrha’s bewilderment.

“What, you think she tattooed her face? Nah, man, it’s just vanity.”

It’s not vanity, it’s about the aesthetic, Pyrrha thought, huffing and scowling unhappily at her food. As she did so, yet another voice caught on the edges of her perception.

“Hey, you think the centaur does ‘pony rides’?” Pyrrha’s eyes flicked to Atala, Atala’s ears folding back flat, clearly having heard the comment as well. Pandora’s eyes flashed murderously.

“So!” Pyrrha suddenly said, her voice slightly strained. “Even factoring in the ship-related training, we’re going to have a fair amount of free time on this deployment. Does anyone have any ideas on how to spend it?”

“Well, I believe we’re going to be spending at least some of our time at Francesca’s services,” Fiore said, turning to smile at her teammate. “Provide a bit of moral support and all that.”

“You’re all welcome to come,” Francesca added, beaming brightly. “You don’t need to be a believer to attend; it’s not just about faith, there’s lots of interesting stories as well!”

“I’d love to,” Pyrrha said, much happier with this conversation than listening to the others going on around her. “We should probably also spend some time discussing tactics for our teams working together.”

“Excellent idea. I look forward to collaborating with you Ilia, leader to leader,” Fiore said jovially, turning her attention to Ilia. Ilia coughed, almost choking on her soup at the sudden focus.

“S-sounds good,” she croaked out once her airway was clear again.

Later, after yet more rushed training and explanations from various officers and specialists aboard the Carefree, both teams were relaxing back in their cabin, waiting for Francesca’s service. “So, we’ve got a bit of time. Shall we compare semblances and tactics now?” Fiore asked, looking around the room.

“Uh, sure,” Ilia replied, nodding and glancing at her team. “I guess we can go first. I uhh… Don’t really know what mine is yet,” she admitted.

“That’s alright; it took me a while to figure mine out as well,” Fiore assured her, smiling.

“I… Would prefer not to go into details about mine,” Pyrrha said hesitantly, fidgeting slightly. “It’s… I keep it secret because of the tournaments, and performing,” she explained. “It’s not something that has broad team applications anyway, I don’t think.”

“If you want to keep it to yourself, that’s up to you,” Fiore said, unable to avoid looking a touch disappointed but unwilling to press Pyrrha. Sun and Weiss then detailed their respective semblances, Weiss’ taking much longer as she ran through some of the more specific interactions her glyphs had with dust.

“Hey, that sounds like mine,” Francesca said to Weiss, beaming happily as she looked up from the open book in her lap. “Or, well… I don’t make glyphs. The way ‘Exalt’ works is I can make people’s semblances better by singing.”

“By singing?” Weiss asked, tilting her head and blinking. “And better how?”

“Yep! The louder I sing, the greater the effect. And as for better… The best way I can explain is it makes the semblance do more of whatever it does. So, with you Sun,” she continued, looking at Sun, “it could either make more of your aura projections, or make them stronger. 

“As for dust, by using it with dust I can make different effects happen. I can use water dust to make peoples’ aura regenerate faster, earth dust to make people stronger, or ice dust to slow people down, as some examples.”

“That’s… Incredibly versatile,” Ilia said, blinking, already thinking of some powerful combinations with semblances she was aware of. “But, how well can you sing in a fight?” she asked.

“Pretty well, I think. I manage it in sparring classes. The main problem I run into is keeping the volume consistent. If something gets too close I tend to spike in volume, which means I’m consuming more aura, which is bad when something’s in my face,” Francesca elaborated. “But suddenly stopping using my semblance could endanger my teammates, so…”

“So making sure Francesca is adequately protected is an important part of our tactics,” Fiore finished for her. “Of course, that’s not to say Francesca can’t defend herself; that censer of hers packs quite the punch.”

“Censer? Oh, your weapon,” Sun said, remembering the odd weapon Francesca was carrying when they arrived at the docks.

“Technically it’s a thurible,” Francesca replied. “But, yes, my weapon. I use it as a big flail, and it can turn into a meteor hammer with a couple of smaller censers at either end,” she cheerfully continued. “I can load it up with different types of dust, either to use with my semblance or infuse straight into it. Oh, and it’s called ‘Astral Liturgy’.”

“Why’d you call it that?” Ilia asked.

“Because thuribles are used in worship, and people see stars when I hit them with it!” Francesca answered, grinning. Both Sun and Pandora let out amused snorts at the explanation, and Fiore giggled softly.

“As for me,” Fiore then said, “my semblance is ‘Glitter and Gold’.” She lifted a hand up, which began glowing a bright gold. “I can make parts of my body glow, even bright enough to stun and temporarily blind grimm and people,” she explained, letting the glow dim again. “I’ve been working on projecting the light as well; the best I’ve gotten so far is a weak torch.”

“My semblance is ‘Fuck Off’,” Pandora then supplied, grinning broadly at the name. Francesca sighed quietly, whilst Weiss made a face at the crass name. “Keaton made me put ‘Back Off’ down on the paperwork instead, but I call it ‘Fuck Off’.”

“And what does it do?” Pyrrha asked curiously.

“I make shockwaves around me that blast people back,” Pandora answered. “If I use it with dust, it turns into explosions of whatever kinda dust I used. It’s pretty cool,” she opined, her grin widening.

“Pretty good offensive and defensive utility there,” Ilia agreed, nodding as various ideas for how to utilise Pandora’s semblance came to mind. “Atala? How about yours?” she asked. “I remember seeing some smoke coming off you during your team’s match?”

“Oh! Um,” Atala began, starting slightly at being addressed directly. “It’s called ‘Quickening’. I…” She paused, trying to think how to describe it as she fidgeted. “As I move around, I can use my aura to store up that energy, and then spend it to make things go faster? So I can hit harder, make myself quicker, that sort of thing. The smoke is… Kind of a gauge on how much energy I have stored.”

“Oh, interesting!” Pyrrha said, smiling. “That’s quite a dangerous semblance on an open field. Does it just work on you, or does it apply to your weapons as well?”

“I can spend the energy on my weapons, but I can only get energy from things I’m moving myself. So, I can get energy from swinging my weapons, but not from firing a gun,” Atala explained. Weiss looked down, briefly trying to imagine the theoretical carnage Atala could cause with her semblance, before looking up with wide eyes.

“... Does it stack on itself?” she asked. “For instance, if you ran quickly, used the energy from that to make yourself faster, could you then store that energy?”

“It ends up consuming a lot of aura, but… Yes,” Atala answered with a nod. “It’s only useful if I have a lot of room for a run-up as well.”

“Still, devastating in the right circumstances,” Ilia pointed out. From there, the conversation turned to various bits of small talk, filling time until Francesca needed to start her preparations, dividing up incense and herbs into a couple of different burners. Then, finally, she hopped to her feet.

“We should make our way over now,” Francesca said, glancing around the room with a smile before heading to the door. The rest of them got up to follow her, making their way to the mess. A number of sailors were also making their way there, and others who hadn’t began falling in behind them. Pyrrha tried not to think about their likely motivations too much.

Some sailors were already present in the mess hall when they arrived, setting up a small lectern for Francesca’s use under a petty officer’s direction. The tables and benches were all bolted to the deck, so they couldn’t be arranged to something more convenient, but there was enough space at the front of the room for Francesca to lead the service.

“Hello everyone!” Francesca began in Argosi, beaming happily as she set the tome she habitually carried on the lectern. She then cleared her throat before continuing. “I’m happy to see so many people here. Before we begin, we have some people attending the service who aren’t fluent in Argosi. So, I hope people don’t mind if we have today’s service in Valean?” She glanced around the room, her smile growing at the quiet round of acceptance. 

“Okay! We’ll begin with a prayer.” Taking a deep breath, Francesca began to hum a simple tune, her hands moving as if conducting a choir. A good number of sailors in the room, as well as Fiore and Pyrrha, began humming along with her almost immediately. The others joined in a few moments later, many prompted to with quick elbow jabs from their peers.

As the congregation quickly got used to the tune, Francesca lit a small pair of incense burners on chains, looping them over the middle and ring finger on each hand and letting them dangle down. With her eyes closed, head tilted back slightly, she stretched her arms out to the sides. Gently moving her arms to spread the scented smoke, she began to pray. Her voice was carefully paced, the prayer spoken-word but keeping time with the tune carried by the gathering.

“Into Epithelial’s realm we go,
Our hubris left at home.
No vanity to be wrought,
With confidence we roam.

“With faith in our hearts,
And prayers on our lips.
Impious are we not,
The stars always in our thoughts.

“From the envy of buried Cthonis,
The hatred of abyssal Hadala.
And the temptations of throne-thief Babylon,
Deliver and protect us.”

As Francesca’s service moved on, Pyrrha, try as she might, couldn’t help but become aware of the occasional quiet muttering from some sailors. And, to her growing despair, it was just more of the same.

“If Arlecchina keeps coming to these sermons, I just might find religion,” one joked to his friend. “Not to mention the Aglianco chick.”

“Any idea where they’re gonna be tomorrow at sixteen-hundred? I wanna try getting an autograph from Schnee or Nikos.”

“Guessing it’s not likely they’re ever gonna end up down in engineering? Topdeck crew are so lucky…”

Please stop talking about me, Pyrrha begged silently.

Following Francesca’s sermon, both teams spent a while on the topdeck running through more instruction on procedures onboard the Carefree before returning to their cabin once again. As soon as the door closed, Francesca turned to them all smiling broadly. “So, what did you think of the service?” she asked.

“It was interesting! I’ve never been to an Asteric sermon before,” Sun said.

“Likewise,” Ilia agreed. “I’m not really familiar with a lot of the details, either,” she admitted. “Like, the names you mentioned in the opening prayer. Who are they?” she asked.

“Epithelial is the god of the sea,” Francesca began explaining, enthusiastic despite her fatigue. “She graciously allows us to travel her realm, and gives us her bounty. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly, though, and punishes the arrogant. You have to respect the sea.”

“That makes sense. The other names you mentioned seemed more… Antagonistic? Are they gods as well?” Ilia asked, tilting her head.

“Two are,” Francesca confirmed. “Hadala and Cthonis are the mother and father of the grimm, respectively. Cthonis is imprisoned deep below Remnant, and is a bitter, envious god. He created the grimm of the land out of envy, because he cannot see the stars anymore. Hadala is the god of the ocean abyss, and hates everything that lives in the light. She fights Epithelial for dominion of the sea, and created aquatic grimm to ‘cleanse’ it.

“Babylon, meanwhile… She isn’t a god. One of the big theological debates in Asterism is whether or not ‘Babylon’ refers to a single, specific individual, or if she’s more of an apocryphal figure. In either case, she’s characterised as a witch, capable of controlling the creatures of grimm. She’s ‘temptation’, whispering poison into the ears of rulers, luring them to ruin or installing herself in their place.”

“I see…” Ilia then glanced between Pyrrha and Fiore. “Are either of you believers? You knew what to do in that opening prayer,” she observed.

“I observe the holidays, but I’m not really a believer,” Pyrrha answered, giving Francesca an apologetic smile.

“My family follows the traditions, especially those venerating Ostonach. God of the earth and wealth, as fitting the family’s history,” Fiore said with a smirk. “I’ve never really spent time thinking about my own faith, though. That said, even if I’m not a believer, I’d still continue the worship to do my part to stop Mistral wiping out our culture.”

Ilia opened her mouth, and then, failing to come up with a response to Fiore’s politics, closed it again. Before she could formulate a reply, she was interrupted by a knock on the cabin door. Pyrrha, seated the closest to it, rose with a confused frown, opening the door to a pair of excited-looking sailors, barely older than the students in the cabin.

“Arlecchina!” they both cheered, grinning broadly up at her, one looking up from her chest a moment slower. Pyrrha had to fight not to let her posture and expression crumple.

“Oh, hello,” she greeted them, a familiar, fake smile etching itself onto her face. “How can I help you?”

“We just wanted to stop by and say we’re big fans!” one of them said.

“We can’t believe you’re on our ship!” the other added. “We were wondering… If we could get autographs?” he continued, reaching into a pocket and producing a small notepad and a pen.

“Ohh, and a magic trick maybe? We both love seeing your shows at the circus.”

“A magic trick, huh?” Pyrrha asked, an idea forming in her mind. It was a little mean, and briefly she wondered if the idea would have occurred to her before meeting Weiss and Ilia. But even so… “I can show you a magic trick, sure,” she said, nodding. Both sailors’ grins widened even further, somehow. Pyrrha plucked the pen from the second one’s hand.

“Watch closely, and I will make this pen…” She waved it theatrically through the air, both sailors’ eyes glued to it. “Disappear.” Abruptly, she stepped backwards and shut the door firmly. She sighed heavily, lightly thudding her forehead against the door. She heard some uncertain shuffling on the other side of the door, and then after a few seconds, two pairs of footsteps slowly retreating.

Pushing herself away from the door, she turned to see the other seven occupants of the cabin staring at her, most of them wide-eyed. “... Sorry,” Pyrrha found herself apologising, wincing at her own behaviour.

“Don’t be,” Fiore quickly assured her, glancing at the door with a huff. “They were well over the line. They’ve been talking about us, and you especially, all day. And whilst I, unfortunately, expected a certain degree of… Commentary from the sailors, harassing you in your cabin is too far.”

“I agree,” Weiss said, nodding. “There’s a big difference between just talking about us, and then coming to where we sleep to bother us. We should let the captain know about this.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an overreaction?” Pyrrha asked, beginning to worry. “I mean, I know they were a bit overenthusiastic, but…”

“What would you or your parents do if a fan showed up at your house, doing the same thing?” Ilia asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or at our dorm?” Pyrrha opened her mouth, then closed it again with a grimace.

“Based on what I’ve heard from my sister, this is definitely something the captain would want to know about,” Francesca chimed in.

“If you don’t tell the captain, I will,” Pandora then said off-handedly as she toyed with something in her belongings. “I don’t like the idea of random sailors coming to our cabin to see us. I mean, my first pick would be teaching ‘em a lesson personally, but the Carefree isn’t our territory.”

“Fine, we’ll let one of the officers know,” Pyrrha relented. She knew they were right, she was just too used to fulfilling her fans’ requests. At least if I report it, I can make sure they know they just wanted an autograph, rather than… Anything else.

Chapter Text

In the end, Captain Silver was greatly appreciative of the report on the sailors’ behaviour. The next day, a message went out along with the usual morning announcements. “It has come to our attention,” the officer of the watch said after finishing the usual weather reports and briefings, “that some sailors have been treating the attaché hunters in an unacceptable manner.

“It stops now. They’re here to get the experience they need to make all our lives easier later in their career, and maybe even save your lives. The worst offenders so far have been green tabled; any future complaints will receive worse. That is all.”

Of course, it didn’t stop completely following the announcement. They still got some lecherous looks, and there was some murmured commentary. But it did tail off dramatically with the threat looming over the sailors’ heads. And none were brave enough to consider bothering the hunter students in their cabin again.

Later that day, most of said students were on the weather deck in an out-of-the-way corner, enjoying the sun and sea air. Or, in Weiss’ case, enjoying the shade and sea air, firmly rooted in the shadow cast by the sails. Sun and Pandora were dangling fishing lines off the side of the Carefree, whilst Ilia scanned the horizon with a telescope she found from somewhere.

“Huh,” Ilia said, noticing an island. Not large enough to support any settlement, it nonetheless featured a few buildings, all of them squat, modern, concrete constructions. A flood wall ran around the cluster, creating an enclosed compound, and a cemented pier jutted a short distance out into the water. The most notable features, however, were the series of radar dishes and antennae dotted across the compound. “What’s that?”

“Hm? What’s what?” Pyrrha asked, glancing over. She took the telescope offered by Ilia, following her pointing finger. “Oh, that. It’s a weather station; there’s a few of them on the islands around Argoz. They were originally built to warn the mainland of hurricanes, but they do regular forecasting as well. They’re the reason we get a day or two’s warning on incoming hurricanes, instead of just a few hours.”

“They also act as communication relay stations, I believe,” Weiss added helpfully. 

“Mhm,” Fiore confirmed. “Less essential now, since the CCT tower in Argoz got replaced with the new one when they were building Providence. But still useful, especially during storms.”

“Got it,” Ilia said, taking her telescope back from Pyrrha, the Carefree sailing on past the weather station. A short while later, the students’ attention was drawn to a small commotion happening near the prow of the ship. A few sailors had gathered, pointing at something in the distance and passing a bulky set of binoculars around. Then, one grabbed a radio from their waist and said something into it.

Seconds later, the alarm blared; three short, rapid siren blasts, the signal for a grimm sighting. And not just a single razormaw or even a pod of them, something worth the ship’s attention. Immediately, the group of students were on their feet, Sun and Pandora quickly hauling in their fishing lines.

“What is it?” Fiore asked one of the sailors as the crew moved to a higher state of alert, loading crew-served weapons along the ship’s flanks. The large turret-mounted cannon at the prow remained static, for now at least.

“Hermit grimm,” the sailor responded quickly, continuing to rush over to his station.

“Translation?” Sun asked, not yet familiar enough with Argosi to do so himself.

“Hermit grimm. We’d best get our weapons,” Pyrrha answered, leading the way to the armoury.

“What’s a hermit grimm?” Pandora asked, frowning more than usual.

“Imagine something similar to a geist, but more like a hermit crab instead of a ghost. They’re also… Gooier,” Fiore explained, grimacing.

“Right… Guess we’ll see soon,” Pandora said. They quickly arrived at the armoury containing their weapons, joined there by Francesca and Atala. Once armed, they rushed back up to the deck, moving to the rail and watching as the sighted grimm drew closer. As the distance between it and the Carefree dwindled, the hunters were able to get an increasingly better look at it through variously available telescopes and binoculars. 

It appeared to have been, at one point, a larger fishing boat, now covered stem to stern in the tell-tale black ooze of the grimm. Patches of weathered hull were visible between the web-like patterns of grimm across the outer surface, the main mass seeming to be concentrated within the boat itself. The bow had split open, metal and fibreglass wrenched into a serrated set of jaws, and evil red eyes were dotted across the hull in clusters, all twitching and turning this way and that. 

The harpoon launchers, hooks, and nets which had been the boat’s former crews’ tools had also been assimilated, the latter woven with grimm flesh into nasty-looking scourges, the former banded with thicker muscles and bristling with bone spikes. Somewhat alarmingly, the boat’s self-defence weapons were covered as well, though the question of whether the pintle-mounted machine guns and lone autocannon were still functional was up in the air.

“... Hermit grimm, right,” Ilia commented flatly. “We’re attacking it?”

“Captain says it’s too much of a danger to civilian shipping to be left alone,” a nearby sailor answered. “Don’t worry, it looks scarier than it is; end of the day, it’s just a meaner fishing boat. We’re a warship.”

“What do you need us to do?” Ilia asked, glancing around for an officer or more senior sailor.

“Ah, there you are,” a voice behind them said, and she turned to see one such officer. “Good, you’re already armed. The plan is to destroy it with our broadside, something that won’t endanger either yourselves or the crew. However, hermit grimm can be wildly unpredictable, so you’ll remain on-deck in case anything unexpected happens.”

“Understood,” Fiore said, as Pandora and Atala began putting custom ear defenders on, the others donning more conventional ones. Eventually, they drew within range of the prow turret. The gun swivelled around, a klaxon sounding to warn people to avoid that part of the deck. Then, it opened fire. Thudding away at a steady rate of one round every few seconds, Ilia felt it more than she heard it, a light concussive force hitting her chest as smoke erupted from the muzzle.

Between the distance, the defenders muffling her ears, and the pounding of the cannon, she couldn’t hear the grimm’s reaction. But she could imagine the shrieking and howling as shells began hitting it, blowing holes in the superstructure and ripping out chunks of grimm flesh. The improvised jaws opened wide in, presumably, a bellow, the creature firing long spikes of bone in retaliation, all of them falling far short.

Then, a series of sounds in rapid succession. At the edges of her hearing, Ilia thought she heard… Singing? Then a split second of another klaxon, and then… Silence. Total and utter. Only the roar of the cannon managed to overcome it, and even then only briefly, muffled and quickly swallowed by the oppressive lack of noise.

Looking around, Ilia quickly remembered part of the ship-board training they’d received. Sirens. She turned to her left, only to see Pandora’s rifle levelled at something just past her shoulder. Ilia’s eyes widened, and she dropped to the deck. Pandora’s weapon fired a moment later with a silent flash, and something wet hit Ilia’s leg. Glancing back, she caught a glimpse of something coal-black and wet pitching back over the rail and into the sea.

Leaping back to her feet, she drew her own weapon, turning to look at the rest of the deck. Most of the other sailors were reacting to the threat, several firing over the rails at something below the edge of the deck. As Ilia watched, a large, webbed claw reached up, grabbing one of the sailors by the belt.

She darted forwards, grabbing the sailor by the scruff of his uniform as she lashed out at the grasping limb. Her intervention stopped him being pulled over the rail, her attack opening a long wound, the claw retreating. As she peered over the edge of the Carefree, she finally got her first look at the siren grimm climbing the ship.

The front of the creature reminded her of an angler fish. Its mouth was a vast maw, bear trap-like, the upper jaw almost vertical and filled with dozens upon dozens of needle-like fangs. Above this yawning orifice were a pair of beady, red, glowing eyes set in a heavy brow, from which projected a dangling, lantern-like protrusion.

Its body was slick-skinned, broken here and there by the distinct bone plating of grimm. Its forelimbs were long, terminating in large webbed claws, whilst the rear legs were shorter and stumpier. Its tail was more a continuation of its torso than a distinct limb, long and thick. Overall, it vaguely reminded Ilia of something like a hairless wolf, a little larger and altered in proportion, of course. And it had friends, a whole pack of the things swarming up the Carefree’s flanks.

Suddenly, the lead one’s lantern flashed, bright enough to dazzle and blind. Ilia reeled back, dragging the imperilled sailor with her as she swung sightlessly. The jolt and brief resistance that ran up her arm told her she’d cut through something, but she had no way of telling what. She blinked the spots away, her vision clearing. The severed claw of one of the sirens was dissolving on the deck, the injured grimm howling soundlessly at her as it climbed the rail.

Then, colour streaked past Ilia, Pyrrha’s pike planting itself in the creature’s open gullet. It spasmed once before falling limp, and a firm shove sent it falling back into the water. The sailor Ilia saved gave her a grateful nod before scrambling back to his feet, waving his arm over his head before giving some hand signs to other sailors.

Ilia jumped back up, weapon ready to strike at the next grimm to climb over the deck, Pyrrha falling into position next to her. Ilia took a moment to glance around to confirm the presence of the rest of her team. Sun was on the other side of the Carefree, nunchucks windmilling as he laid into the sirens trying to force their way onboard, Weiss covering him from the air with glyphs and rapier thrusts.

Elsewhere, Team APAL were operating relatively smoothly despite the lack of ability to communicate verbally. With a soundless yell and a mighty overhead swing, Francesca brought the flail end of her censer down on top of one of the sirens, crushing its head and upper chest into the deck. The censer then crackled with lightning as she wound it back, sweeping it around to catch another in the side as it leapt at her. electricity scoured its flank as it flew against the mast, almost folding in half around it.

Pandora was covering her, rifle firing away before she flipped it around, grabbing the barrel and deploying the blades out of the stock, joining in the melee. Darting a short distance ahead of Francesca, the air around her rippled violently. Three of the grimm were thrown back by her semblance before she leapt on the closest, bringing the stock down on its head like a bat.

Nearby, Fiore was more than holding her own. Her sunglasses in place, one of the sirens tried and failed to blind her with a flash of its lantern, only to have its skull staved in by a forceful strike from her folded umbrella. As another knot fought their way onto the deck, she grinned, popping open her umbrella over her head.

A sudden gout of wind from the underside of the canopy pulled her into the air, upon which she flipped over, pointing it at the grimm. There was a flash, and the shell ripped through the cluster in a hail of shrapnel. She landed again in a roll, closing the umbrella and twisting the handle.

Two of the ribs, opposite one another, separated from the canopy, remaining attached at either end and snapping into the wire-frame shape of an elaborate axe blade on one side, and a hooked spike on the other. Golden light formed around them, completing the weapon, and Fiore put it to use, hewing through grimm like an especially enthusiastic lumberjack. And as for Atala…

Ilia looked over in time to catch her in mid-charge towards a quintet of sirens that had claimed a hold of part of the deck. Though the distance was comparatively short, it was still enough for her semblance to work, smoke coiling off of her as she neared them. Two leapt to engage her, and she countered by firing her blunderbuss. 

The massive gout of sparks and smoke that left the barrel of the weapon indicated she’d charged the attack with her semblance, and the results were telling. The closest grimm was blown in half, its midsection simply removed, whilst the second was ripped open from shoulder to midway along its tail, falling back to the deck. A third was caught by the fringes of the blast, sending it reeling.

Then Atala was on them. The long, saw-toothed blade swung out to its extended form. She swung, and the blade bit deep, splitting the skull of the third siren and lodging in its chest. She wrenched the blade free, continuing her charge and trampling the fourth underhoof. The final one tried leaping at her again, webbed claws outstretched to rend and maul.

Something glinted in Atala’s eye. Blindingly fast, her cleaver came back around, lopping both limbs off at the elbow with the serrated edge. Then, she plugged its open maw with the barrel of her blunderbuss, and pulled the trigger. The shot practically vapourised the siren past the ribcage, plastering the ship structure behind it with black ichor.

Ilia was stunned by the almost casual brutality from Atala badly enough that Pyrrha had to nudge her to rouse her from her stupor. More sirens were at the rail. The only sound in her ears was the thumping noise of her heartbeat. She nodded to Pyrrha, and they advanced to enact their own butchery.

Chapter Text

Ilia sat on a step, breathing heavily. The battle had ended, but her lungs still heaved down great gulps of air, her muscles still burning from exertion. The battle against the sirens had been sudden and brutal, occupying so much of her focus that she hadn’t even noticed the hermit grimm’s death.

The smoking, smouldering carcass of that larger beast was being monitored by the crew of the Carefree, the fishing boat it had inhabited blown asunder by the coast guard ship’s cannons. The sea was steadily reclaiming the hulk, the crew watching to make sure the grimm was truly dead, and that the hull sank far enough to not pose a danger to shipping.

Hearing anything beyond her own heartbeat still felt a little strange after the near-silence of the battle. The namesake siren song of the grimm had been effectively muted by the noise-cancelling emitters that lined the Carefree’s deck, the tradeoff being the deadening of all sound, leading to her team’s trouble communicating during the fight.

Better than the alternative, at least, Ilia thought, recalling the stories of siren grimm luring their victims into the water to be drowned and eaten.

“They aren’t normally coordinated like that.” The sudden voice almost made Ilia jump, and she looked up at the sailor who had spoken, checking the ropes leading up to the sails for any signs of damage.

“... Huh?” Ilia asked, the wind-down from the fight leaving her less eloquent than usual.

“The sirens,” the sailor elaborated. “Beyond the singing, they don’t have any sort of tactics. They just lure people in and kill them. I’m no grimm expert, but I reckon the hermit drew them in,” he opined, pointing at the sinking hull.

“They can do that?” Ilia asked, frowning.

“Not normally, but… That’s a Mistrali fishing boat.” When Ilia blinked uncomprehendingly at him, he continued. “Right, you wouldn’t know. You ever thought about why the Carefree has sails instead of propellers?”

“I… Hadn’t really given it any thought, to be honest,” Ilia admitted.

“Propellers attract grimm. The sound, it agitates them,” he explained. “It’s normally only a problem with the bigger vessels, but… Well, the hermits are usually smarter than other grimm, and if it had control of the propeller like it did the harpoons…” He tailed off, his implication clear.

“It could have done something to the propeller to make it louder and lure other grimm to follow it, thus letting them help it attack its prey,” Ilia finished. “That makes sense… But if larger propellers are known to aggravate grimm, why are there propeller-driven boats that big in these waters?”

“You can blame Mistral for that one.” With that, he wandered off, leaving Ilia to sit and muse.

The next day, Ilia was standing on deck as the Carefree moved to respond to a distress signal. From what she’d gleaned from the crew, a pair of pleasure yachts had gotten tangled a short distance from one of the region’s other coastal settlements. The town in question was called ‘Passo Azzero’, and whilst the yachts were well within range of their own coast guard station, the Carefree was both closer and already underway.

As such, the ship was en-route, the sailors preparing rescue and relief kit in the event they were needed. “It doesn’t sound like an emergency, but best to be prepared for the worst,” the petty officer overseeing those efforts said.

“Does this happen often?” Ilia asked, tilting her head.

“Civvie boats getting in distress, you mean?” the PO replied, glancing over at Ilia. “Often enough. Normally running into bad weather, getting caught on something. Occasionally we get some idiot deciding to go into grimm-infested waters instead of sticking to swept water, or go out with a hurricane inbound. Then things get dicey.”

“I see…” Soon enough, the boats in distress came into view. Both were sailing yachts, day toys of the wealthy, and both were listing fairly severely towards one another, their masts crossed. As the Carefree drew closer, Ilia began to make out the people aboard each boat, and the flags each was flying.

One was Mistral-flagged, and a man was standing by the wheel, flailing his arms and shouting at the other craft, whilst a woman and two children were sitting together, watching the exchange. The other was Argoz-flagged, and three men were all standing, all three yelling and gesturing animatedly. As Ilia listened to the angry voices drifting across the water, she was confident that the only reason a physical confrontation hadn’t started was the short stretch of water between the two decks.

“Having a fight like this out on the open water? Those idiots are lucky these waters get swept for grimm frequently.” The petty officer Ilia had been speaking with picked up a loudspeaker from somewhere, lifting it to her mouth to address the two ships. She spoke in Argosi first, before switching to Mistrali, which allowed Ilia to understand what she was saying. “Attention both craft, this is the MCGS Carefree, responding to your mayday. 

“Please remain calm, rescue efforts will begin now. We will be bringing you all onboard before we get your craft untangled. If they are fit to sail, you’ll be sent on your way. If they are not, you will be towed to Passo Azzero. Please comply with rescue efforts, and we’ll all be done much faster, thank you.” 

The message at least got them to stop screaming at each other as the PO turned to look at Ilia and the rest of the students, scattered along the rail to watch. “Alright, you can all swim?” she asked. A chorus of nodding heads answered her. “Good. Let’s see… Good opportunity for some of you to get small boat experience in. Wukong, Amitola! You’re on Boat One. Oakley, Aglicanco, Boat Two. Boat One will recover the Mistralis, and likewise Boat Two for the Argosis.

“Boat One will make their approach first since there’re kids on the Mistral boat, and then Boat Two does their recovery. Given the screaming match that’s apparently been going on since they made the distress call, I don’t want either group getting within arm’s reach of each other. That means Boat One’s rescues onboard and out of the way before Boat Two’s get on the Carefree. Do as the boat commander tells you, got it?”

All four readily agreed, and once given the order, climbed into the boats gently swinging on the davits. Ilia clung tightly to the edge as her boat was lowered into the water, the outboard engine roaring to life. The pilot steered them towards the two yachts, Boat Two shortly behind them. Given the way the yachts were tilted towards one another, the best way to rescue the civilians was to slip between the two and come alongside. And the pilot did just that, smoothly sliding into the space between the yachts.

Ilia found her attention drawn to the Argosi yacht. The three men were on the far side of middle-aged and appeared to have been drinking. A few bottles had rolled against the wall by the water, one of them broken, leaving behind a telltale red stain leading from the table onto the deck. One of the coast guards on Ilia’s boat threw a rope to the Mistrali boat, and the three on the Argosi yacht resumed their angry shouting.

Almost immediately, Fiore in turn began yelling at the Argosi yacht, gesturing even more vigorously than the three men. She made one or two motions towards the Mistrali yacht, a furious expression on her face. Ilia was rapidly becoming well-acquainted with a litany of Argosi profanity. Tearing her attention away from that, she focussed on the Mistrali yacht, reaching out a hand to help one of the kids onto the boat.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you,” she said in Mistrali, gently easing them onto the boat, whilst Sun simply lifted the other. The woman came next, helped into the boat by one of the coast guards, then finally the man, who turned down the offered hand in favour of clambering in by himself. He almost tumbled into the water for his efforts.

Their rescues secure, Boat One carefully withdrew, reversing out of the space between the yachts before turning around and making for the Carefree. Boat Two, meanwhile, made their own rescue of the brow-beaten Argosi natives, deliberately lagging a little behind so the Mistrali rescues could be brought aboard the Carefree.

With the civilians onboard, the hunters-in-training were replaced with proper crewmembers, the two boats going back out to assess the yachts and get them untangled. The Mistrali family was taken below decks by one of the officers, whilst the Argosi trio were taken to one side by Captain Silver, who began a very stern conversation with them.

“What were you yelling at them about?” Ilia asked Fiore, peering up at her. Fiore let out an annoyed growl, breaking off from glaring at the three men to look at Ilia.

“They started having a fit that the Mistrali yacht was getting rescued first and started calling the coast guard ‘Mistral bootlicks’. Instead of the more sensible explanation of the Mistrali boat having children onboard,” she huffed, folding her arms. Ilia blinked, before shooting her own scowl at them.

“Pricks.” She then blinked, glancing around again. “Where are the others?” she asked, not seeing Weiss, Pyrrha, Atala, or Francesca on the deck.

“Nikos, Schnee, and Lucci are in the mess, trying to cheer up the kids,” one of the sailors winching the boats back onto the davits answered. “Not sure about Anthra. Think she muttered something about not wanting to scare them before disappearing somewhere.” Fiore’s expression morphed into a concerned frown.

“I’d best go find her,” she said, quickly dashing off. Sharing a look with Pandora and Sun, Ilia made her way to the ship’s mess to find the rest of her team, the other two in tow. The Mistrali family was there, the husband and wife sitting together, watching their two children interact with Weiss and Pyrrha. The childrens’ focus was focussed primarily on Weiss, though, as she made small glyphs appear and spin in patterns to their delight. Weiss had a small, content smile on her face as she entertained them.

It was an unexpectedly domestic moment, one that made Ilia pause just inside the room. Pyrrha was also watching Weiss, a soft smile on her face. Then, Pyrrha’s eyes flicked to Ilia, and the moment was broken. “Oh, hello again!” she said, beaming at the trio. Weiss glanced over as well, interrupting her little show.

“Hey,” Ilia said, wandering over to join the growing group. “Are you all alright?” she asked the family, slipping into Mistrali.

“We are, thank you,” the wife answered. “Better for being out of that mess.”

“Thank you for getting our children out of there first,” the husband then said, his voice hoarse from all the shouting. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting priority treatment from an Argus vessel…”

“You’re not at fault for Mistral-Argoz politics,” Pyrrha said, opting to overlook his use of the Mistrali name for the city. “And even if you were, your children certainly aren’t,” she added, smiling at the kids.

Didn’t stop them being caught up in it, Ilia thought grimly.

By the time the Carefree and her towed yachts arrived in Passo Azzero, Captain Silver had already decided what would happen. The Mistral yacht was free to go, though the family decided to call it a day for sailing, instead returning to wherever they were staying in the town. The three Argosi men, however, were handed over to the authorities there; all of them had been too drunk to legally operate their yacht, and until one of them took responsibility for being at the helm they were all considered culpable.

Pyrrha stood at the rail, watching the three men be marched off the Carefree and turned over to the town’s police force. Then, she turned her attention to the rest of Passo Azzero. It was the very picture of the idyllic Argosi coast. Nestled in a small bay and protected by cliffs on two sides and a wall on the third, the town was shaped almost like a cone, the tallest buildings in the very middle and tapering to shorter heights further from the centre.

Her admiration of the town was quickly interrupted by the ship’s klaxon sounding. Immediately, the sailors that had been escorting the arrestees turned and sprinted back up the gangplank, whilst the rest of the Carefree exploded into action. “All hands to battle stations. The town of Imola is under imminent grimm and pirate attack. All hands to battle stations.”

Chapter Text

Within a minute of the alarm sounding, the Carefree was leaving Passo Azzero’s port. Unlike their previous exploits where a steady, cruising pace was preferred, the order of the day was for speed. The Carefree was under full sail, the wind dust generators at close to their maximum output. Her crew were equally active, rushing to and fro as they prepared for battle.

Teams ISSN and APAL were similarly making ready, performing last-minute adjustments to their equipment and tactics. As they neared Imola, one of the ship’s officers approached them in the corner they were keeping out of the way in. “You’re already armed, good. Here’s the situation; the militia forces at Imola are being hard-pressed by both grimm and the pirates. They’re holding near the middle of the town, but they need help.

“There is one hostile ship present, currently located in the town’s harbour where it is bombarding the town. The pirates themselves are causing havoc in and around the port, whilst the grimm are attacking from inland. Unfortunately, despite the ship being a sitting duck in port, we can’t just sink it from range, as they could have hostages onboard.

“Deployments, then, are as follows. The main coast guard force will hit the docks running, breaking the pirates there. At the same time, Teams APAL and ISSN will spearhead the boarding of the enemy ship. Once the ship is in-hand, you’ll join the forces in Imola. Remember, we are anticipating hostages onboard; be extremely careful.

“And, one more thing.” The students shared uneasy glances as the officer paused. “You’ve all been told about pirates by Captain Caspian, correct?” A series of nods. “These ones are flying a red grimm flag. Captain Silver has ordered no quarter.”

The declaration sent a tide of unease across the group. It was one thing to be told about pirates and the concept of ‘no quarter’ in a lecture hall at Providence Academy. It was another thing entirely to be confronted with the reality that they were expected to take lives without mercy.

“Make no mistake,” the officer continued, sensing their disquiet. “They have attacked a settlement whilst flying a red flag. They intend to murder or enslave innocent civilians, and they will treat you no differently than they would licensed hunters. This is kill or be killed. This isn’t like sparring matches or tournaments; this is going to be more like fighting the grimm.”

With that, he escorted them back to the top deck. The air was thick with grim anticipation. The ship’s small boats were ready to launch, teams of armed coast guard lined up beside them, whilst medical teams made final checks on their carried supplies. Along the rails, crew-served weapons were loaded and primed. Weiss peered over the side, seeing the gunports open up as the gun deck’s armaments were moved into position.

Francesca was kneeling by the rail, hands clasped together as she quietly prayed. Sun gnawed at his lip nervously, swallowing before speaking. “We’re… We’re gonna have to kill people.”

“Yeah,” was all Weiss had to say in reply. “I knew we’d probably have to eventually, but…”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Ilia said. “It’s like the officer said; kill or be killed. These pirates won’t feel bad about trying to kill us, they’re already killing innocent civilians.”

“Yeah, because they’re pirates,” Weiss said, huffing and folding her arms, trying to mask her growing dread. “I don’t know if you’d noticed, but we’re not pirates. We’re not even real hunters yet. We’re students.”

“Did you think you’d never have to kill anyone?” Ilia asked, fighting to keep her tone non-judgemental.

“I at least assumed we’d have graduated before then!” Weiss shot back, wings flapping in agitation.

“Easy, easy,” Pyrrha said, smoothly stepping between the two of them. “I’m worried as well,” she said to Weiss, her eyes readily betraying her apprehension. “But Ilia’s right. If we don’t stop them, they’re going to kill more people. None of us are happy with the idea of killing, but… We have to do it, because we’re the ones here.”

“I know, I know,” Weiss said, sighing and glowering at the deck unhappily. “Why couldn’t it have just been grimm…”

Eventually, the town of Imola hove into view. It was arranged in a rough ‘J’ shape, the shorter end of the fictive letter beginning at the town’s harbour. It curled around to climb a large outcropping that ran parallel to the water, surrounded by dense foliage closer to sea level that eventually gave way to a beach on the seaward side. The harbour itself was formed by a spit of land that had been reinforced with a tall seawall, a lighthouse marking the entrance to the port.

The buildings were, for the most part, classically Argosi in style, built from terracotta-hued stone or bricks, or painted to match. The higher elevations of the outcropping contained the grandest buildings. Those lower down, especially closer to the harbour, were less ornate, though primarily still in keeping with the town’s architectural aesthetics. A curtain wall wrapped from the landward side of the outcropping to the harbour’s seawall to protect the lower town. It was matched by another, less lengthy wall from the far side of the harbour to the opposite side of the outcropping to where the first wall began.

Imola’s location on the steep, elevated ground was a good decision for the town’s defence, as evidenced by the fierce fighting visible through the ship’s viewfinders and binoculars. Weiss watched as a group of four beowolves attempted scaling the rocks and built-up walls, only to be sent tumbling back down by attacks from the town’s militia, or rocks and debris hurled by civilians joining the defence however they could.

Weiss shifted her view further down the slope. Between the buildings, she could just about make out the defensive line formed by the Imola militia. They were relying heavily on a secondary wall built across the width of the outcropping a short distance up its length. Frequent flashes and clouds of smoke indicated the main clash between the invading pirates and the militia was happening there.

And then, down in the harbour itself, was the pirates’ ship. Of roughly equal size to the Carefree, it looked every bit the part; barely-passable maintenance, frequently-patched sails, and a red flag fluttering atop the mast, decorated with a grimm mask icon. As Weiss watched, the cannons on the port side opened up with flashes, bombarding the rough area of the militia’s defensive line.

“There you all are, good.” Weiss lowered the binoculars she was using, turning to face Captain Silver as he approached the gathered students. “Are you all ready?”

Ready as we’ll ever be, Weiss thought snarkily, but bit the comment back.

“Yes, captain,” Fiore said with a confident nod, despite the slight shake to her hands.

“Good. As you were told, you’ll be hitting the pirate ship along with some of the coast guard, whilst the main force deploys to the shore. It won’t be long before they spot us, if they haven’t already. We can’t engage them with our main guns for fear of hostages being present, but they won’t have the same limitation. If they get their broadside on us as we approach, they could do serious damage to us.

“To that end, this is the plan. Miss Schnee.” Weiss stood a little straighter at being directly addressed. “When I give the word, you will fly towards their ship, staying out of the arc of their broadsides. Once in range, I need you to freeze over their starboard gunports so they can’t engage us. Miss Nikos, you’ll be her escort. Your job will be to make sure she gets to the target. Understood?”

“Yes, captain,” both responded. They shared a glance. Weiss could tell Pyrrha was just as nervous as her, but gave her a reassuring nod regardless. Weiss returned it, swallowing. The students remained gathered at the rail, watching the town draw closer. She spied movement on the deck of the pirate ship, a figure pointing in their direction and shouting off to one side.

“They’ve seen us!” she called out.

“Dazzle flares!” At the captain’s orders, a trio of flares shrieked from their launchers on the deck towards the town. At the end of their flight, they burst into painfully bright sunbursts, completely obscuring sight of the enemy ship. A few moments later, bullets sliced through the air, splashing into the water around the Carefree, the pirates’ aim badly affected by the flares.

“Schnee, Nikos!”

“On it!” Weiss shouted in reply, vaulting over the railing and pumping her wings, Pyrrha close behind her. Pyrrha accelerated to move in front of her before Weiss threw up a line of glyphs ahead of the pair. The glyphs hurtled them forwards even faster, the wind howling in Weiss’ ears.

At speed, they flew past the blinding flares, flying in an arc to avoid the pirate ship’s broadside guns. A couple of the less-dazzled pirates onboard spotted them on the approach, opening fire on them. They jinked and dodged, Pyrrha using her semblance to divert any on-target bullets whilst Weiss threw up glyphs to catch the larger bursts of fire.

Then, they were at their target. Weiss cycled Myrtenaster’s chamber, ice dust flowing along her blade as she dipped it into the sea. Behind her as she flew up the length of the ship a wave of ice emerged, flowing up its side to freeze over its guns. Turning sharply, she flew back along the same path, adding another layer of ice for good measure.

Hearing the muffled sounds of shouting through the hull, Weiss nodded to Pyrrha before flying up, Pyrrha following her lead. Heedless of their activities, the pirates manning the deck guns continued firing on the approaching Carefree, now only half a minute away. “Sails!” Weiss shouted to Pyrrha, gesturing at the mainmast with her sword.

“Got it!” The pair flew to the mast, and then along opposite lengths of the topmost yardarm, slashing through the ropes tying the sail to it. Pyrrha hauled it over the side of the ship as it began to fall, Weiss aiding her with wind dust and glyphs. There were startled cries from below as the sail fell across the pirates along the rail, swamped and trapped under the sailcloth.

Moments later, the Carefree arrived. In an expert display of sailing, the frigate brought its bow around, coming alongside the pirate vessel with the crunching sound of ice being crushed between the hulls. Captain Silver stepped up onto the rail, brandishing a cutlass above his head before leaping across to the other ship with a cry of “follow me!”

The wave of marines crashed into the scattered pirates, struggling to react to the boarding action. With a shared nod, Weiss and Pyrrha simultaneously tucked their wings, diving to join the melee on the deck. Scattered throughout the emerging chaos were the student hunters, and it was quickly becoming apparent that none of the pirates were even remotely on their level.

That didn’t stop them from trying, however. Pyrrha and Weiss, isolated from their allies as a result of their landing on the deck, found themselves swarmed by pirates. In the extreme close-range Pyrrha was forced to discard her pike, producing a pair of knives from the sleeves of her jacket. Weiss supported her, throwing up glyphs to protect the pair from any trying to shoot at them, guarding Pyrrha’s flanks with Myrtenaster.

The first wave went down howling in pain. Auraless, the clothes they wore offered little resistance to Pyrrha’s blades or Weiss’ dust-infused glyphs. An arc of lightning dust sent another three to the deck, writhing uncontrollably, whilst a powerful kick from Pyrrha slammed a pirate against the mast with a wet sounding crack.

Screams and roars, the clash of steel and the cracks and booms of firearms filled the air. Undeterred by their losses and injured crewmates, the pirates came at them still. A sudden yell to her side caused Weiss’ head to turn, just in time to see a tall, hulking man with an axe rushing her. She sensed an active aura around him, and quickly pivoted to meet his charge, forcefully thrusting forward with Myrtenaster.

The pirate’s aura might as well have not existed. It splintered instantly, the rapier piercing his torso an instant later. The needle-like point sank deeper and deeper into him, the pirate unable to arrest his charge. Momentum carried him forward until he slammed into Weiss, knocking the smaller girl off her feet. The pair fell, Weiss’ head cracking against the deck hard enough to make her see stars. She was underneath him, Myrtenaster’s blade sprouting from his back, bathed in red.

Weiss couldn’t move, pinned under her would-be assailant. Gore flowed down the hilt of her sword, quickly starting to soak into her dress. The pirate coughed wetly before letting out an agonised gurgle. He stank of stale sweat and seawater, the metallic scent of blood growing stronger. The side of her dress was wet and sticky.

He’s dying, came the delayed realisation. He’s skewered on my sword and I’m trapped and he’s dying. She squirmed, trying to get free, to no avail. The battle, continuing to rage around her, faded to the edges of her awareness as panic rose. She couldn’t get enough leverage to lift the pirate, his lifeblood continuing to drain onto Weiss. 

With a desperate grunt, Weiss tried pulling on Myrtenaster, succeeding on wrenching the blade to the side. The movement drew a choked, gasping sob from the pirate above her and a renewed flow of blood as the wound widened, but failed to get her any closer to freedom. Finally, she started screaming.

She lost track of how long she spent trapped before, finally, someone hauled the now-expired pirate off her. She scrambled to her feet, letting go of Myrtenaster and stumbling away from the corpse. Her head turned almost of its own accord, looking down—

Suddenly, her vision was filled with alarmed, grey eyes, hands on her cheeks. “Don’t look at it,” Ilia said urgently, gently turning Weiss’ head away from the body. “Don’t think about it, just look at me.You did what you had to do, but don’t think about it. Just focus on me, not the bag. Try to match my breathing.”

Weiss trembled, her breathing coming in short and ragged. Ilia slowed her own breathing, exaggerating each inhale and exhale, eyes urging Weiss to match her. Swallowing stiffly, Weiss did her best to follow the pattern. In slowly. Hold. Out slowly. Pause. In slowly. Hold. Out slowly. Repeat.

Slowly, Weiss became aware of just how hard her heart was beating, hammering in her chest fast enough to hurt. That realisation helped ground her more, the fog of panic starting to fade. She was still bloody, her dress soaked through and sticking to her side, but she was no longer in near-blind hysterics. Around her, the battle was over, the remaining pirates kneeling and under guard.

“Are you okay, Weiss?” asked Sun’s voice from beside her. “You hit your head pretty hard—” The blow to Weiss’ head chose that moment to reassert its presence, turning her stomach. She pulled away from Ilia’s hands, turning away from both of them before throwing up.

Some time later after night had fallen, Ilia finally let herself collapse, sitting against a crate beside the harbour. Weiss had been taken to the Carefree’s infirmary thanks to her head injury, and the rest of the students had been redeployed into Imola to help mop up the remaining grimm and pirates. Around her were the other students, as well as various coast guard, militia, and civilians moving back and forth or, like her, taking the opportunity to just sit for a while. 

One person in particular caught Ilia’s eye. Francesca walked slowly, steps measured as she gently swung an incense burner by its chain. Soft prayers were on her lips, her head bowed as she moved between the white sheets and body bags carefully arranged to one side of the port.

Her rites spoken, she walked over to and then sat down beside Pandora, staring at the ground just ahead of her. One of the lights around the harbour caught her face, shining off the tear streaks down her cheeks. “That was the first time I’ve had to do that for real…” Ilia heard her say. “I’ve practiced all the rites, but…” She tailed off with a quiet whimper. 

Pandora put an arm around her, pulling Francesca against her side. Ilia looked away, swallowing. She was no stranger to violence, but today had been difficult even for her. Even the professionals in the coast guard looked worn down.

“Hey, Ilia?” Ilia blinked, looking up at Sun as he addressed her. There was an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. “We need to talk.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked away, clearly expecting her to follow. And, with a furrowed brow, she did so, following behind Sun as he walked some distance away from everyone else.

“Okay, this should be private enough,” he said, turning to face her with that same look. “What the fuck was that?” Ilia blinked again, taken aback by his frustrated tone.

“... What was what?” she asked, lost.

“That thing with Weiss,” he said, like that explained everything.

“... I helped her not spiral into a panic attack?” Ilia replied slowly, her confusion not dwindling in the slightest.

“Yeah, that. I don’t fucking get it. You act like you hate her guts most of the time, but then you turn around and do something like that. So, what’s going on?” he asked, folding his arms.

Oh. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sun,” Ilia deflected, folding her own arms in response.

“And I don’t want someone sniping at our teammate with shitty little comments and personal attacks, so it looks like neither of us are getting what we want,” Sun shot back. “So talk, or I will pester you about it the whole way back.” Ilia groaned, turning slightly and dragging her hands down her face.

I can’t just tell him! she thought desperately. But Keaton definitely already knows… she thought a moment later, her mind warring between the two options. They’re your team. You’ll have to trust them eventually. And it’s better if they hear it from you under controlled circumstances…

“Okay, okay fine,” Ilia huffed, meeting Sun’s eyes again. “But you have to swear not to tell anyone without my say-so, got it?”

“If it finally gets you to explain, sure,” Sun agreed. Ilia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay… So, you know I’m from Mantle, right?” Sun nodded, making a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “My parents… They worked really hard to get me into a good school, up in Atlas. They… They worked in one of the dust mines, pulling extra shifts, all that…” Sun’s stern look softened, realisation starting to dawn in his eyes.

“Then, one day there was an accident. Some equipment went wrong, and there was a cave-in. It killed…” She paused, swallowing. “It killed my parents, and a lot of other workers. The inquest afterwards found the accident was down to corner-cutting. Maintenance hadn’t been done, safety rules weren’t being followed… Just a whole load of little things that added up to one massive disaster.”

“I’m sorry,” Sun said quietly, letting his arms fall back to his sides, his frustration evaporating.

“It’s… Well, it’s not okay, but… Yeah.” Ilia sniffed, rubbing at her face. “And you can probably guess who ran the mine.” Sun’s eyes widened, glancing at the ship where Weiss was resting.

“Shit,” he said flatly. “Okay, but you’ve gotta know it wasn’t her fault, right?”

“I know that,” Ilia huffed out, hunching her shoulders. “But I just… Every time I look at her, see her wearing that company’s symbol like it’s some sort of badge, I can’t stop thinking about it. I know she had nothing to do with it, and I know growing up in that house as a faunus…” She grimaced.

“... There’s more to it though, right?” Sun asked, sympathetic but still searching.

“Okay, you absolutely fucking cannot tell anyone this part,” Ilia emphasised. Sun pantomimed zipping his mouth shut. Ilia squinted at him for a moment before taking the leap. “After the accident… I ran away and joined the White Fang.”

“... Shit,” Sun repeated, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. “That’s… Shit. And let me guess, they all hated the Schnees as well?” Ilia nodded mutely. “Are you still with the Fang?”

“No,” Ilia said firmly, shaking her head. “No, I’m… I’m out, I left. And I’m pretty sure Keaton knows I used to be with them.”

“Alright.” Sun took a deep breath before sighing again. “Okay. I won’t tell anyone, but… You need to sort this shit out. We’re meant to be a team, and besides, you know Weiss had nothing to do with all that. And you need to tell her and Pyrrha eventually.”

“I know, I know. I just… It’s hard, you know?”

“I really don’t; I never joined a terrorist organisation,” Sun pointed out. Ilia scowled at him.

“Okay but you get what I mean,” she said irritably.

“Yeah, sorta. But the sooner you tell them, the better. The longer you leave it, the more Weiss is gonna resent you for treating her like this, and we don’t need any more of that on the team.”

Chapter Text

In the end, the Carefree’s doctor diagnosed Weiss with a concussion. Not wanting to take the chance with a head injury like that, Captain Silver made the decision to evacuate her back to Argoz for a more thorough medical examination. A coast guard seaplane arrived within the day to ferry her back to the city, whilst the Carefree itself made for Argoz at a more sedate pace.

Between being down a student, and the obvious toll the vicious fighting in Imola had taken on those that remained, Captain Silver had elected to finish out the week in a much more controlled setting. Teams APAL and ISSN (minus Weiss) spent the rest of their deployment at a search and rescue centre a few miles down the coast, learning emergency medical care and helping the teams recover stranded sailors and hikers.

Meanwhile, Weiss spent a night and most of a day in a hospital in Argoz. Once the doctors there were happy she hadn’t suffered anything beyond the concussion, she’d been released back to Providence’s dorms. She’d also been excused from classes until after the weekend, giving her some time to process.

Being excused from classes did not, however, mean she was completely free from Providence’s faculty. The day after being released from hospital, a message arrived informing her that Professor Teal Alfaba wanted to see her in her office. Without many excuses to get out of it, and for lack of anything better to do, Weiss acquiesced, and soon found herself waiting outside one of the offices in the building known as the ‘Old Academy’, a building that was shared with the hunter student dorms.

The name wasn’t strictly correct; though it was indeed part of the old naval academy that had been taken for Providence’s use, it was not the only building that had been part of that academy. However, it had been the ‘main’ building even back then, and now hosted the majority of Providence’s administrative and faculty offices.

Professor Teal’s was on the second storey, in a corridor quite a bit grander than one might expect. The walls were marble, carved and shaped by master masons in centuries past. Elegant stonework decorated the ceilings and trimmings where it met the walls, and a few old portraits were hung along the corridors. If it weren’t for the modern additions of fire escape signs and a noticeboard, Weiss could almost pretend she’d stepped back in time to the building’s past.

Upon realising she was distracting herself, Weiss shook herself, huffing quietly before lifting a hand to knock on the door. “Come in!” a voice on the other side called. Weiss did as bid, opening the door before stepping inside. Inside, the walls were lined with bookshelves and filing cabinets, a large, solid-looking wooden desk taking up a good amount of the floor space.

Some effort had gone into making the space a little more hospitable, Weiss could tell. Stacks of papers, books, and files had been piled up in the corners or on shelves. The desk seemed to have resisted the attempts at order, still covered in the detritus of academia. Other bits of paraphernalia were dotted around, most in keeping with Professor Alfaba’s subject matter; grimm anatomy diagrams, reasonably up-to-date maps of grimm nests, and the like.

As for the professor herself… “Hello! It’s good to finally meet you, Weiss,” she greeted enthusiastically, a bright smile on her face. She was a taller, slender woman, perhaps in her early thirties, with olive skin, purple eyes, her violet hair short on the right side, chin-length on the left.

She wore a white blouse with short, ruffled sleeves, a matching ruffle over her chest in the middle of the garment. Her trousers were silk, teal to match her name, and for footwear she had black, calf-length boots with a high heel. The rest of her outfit, hanging behind her desk, consisted of a violet jacket decorated with silver patterns and buttons. A small, blue half-cape was fixed to one shoulder with similar embroidery to the jacket itself.

Finally, her weapons were displayed on a stand to one side of the room. A pair of armoured, articulated gauntlets made of a dark metal with matching vambraces rested on a shelf. Above them and mounted to the wall was a wicked-looking scythe, the same colour as the gauntlets in the main with a dull orange blade. Oddly, a quiver in similar style to Teal’s outfit was hanging beside it, though no bow was visible on display.

“Professor Alfaba,” Weiss said, nodding politely as she returned the greeting. “You wanted to see me?” she asked.

“I did, I did,” she replied, nodding quickly and gesturing to an unoccupied chair by her desk. “Did you want anything to drink? I’ve got some tea, coffee…” She stepped over to a kettle on a counter in the corner, setting it on before rooting through a cupboard.

“Some coffee would be nice, thank you. Milk and sugar.” Teal nodded again, fixing two cups of coffee before joining Weiss at the desk, sitting across from her and sliding the cup to her. “Thank you,” she said quietly, sipping at it.

“Of course,” Teal said, smiling brightly at her. “So, the reason I wanted to speak with you is because of what happened with the Carefree.” Weiss winced at the reminder, swallowing stiffly.

“Is that so?” she asked carefully, trying to mask her feelings. Teal looked at her for a moment, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

“Captain Caspian wanted to be the one to talk to you about it, but I convinced her that I should do it instead,” Teal said gently. Weiss frowned faintly. As much as she wanted to bury the memories of that fight, she couldn’t help but be curious about Teal’s reasons.

“Why?” she eventually asked.

“Caspian’s seen quite a bit of death during her time with the navy,” Teal explained, sipping her coffee. “And that’s why I wanted to be the one to talk to you instead. She’d approach it from a military mindset. And I don’t think that’s what you need.”

“So what do you think I need?” Weiss asked, bristling a little at the idea that she was being coddled.

“I think you need someone who gets it a little better,” Teal answered, unperturbed by Weiss’ slightly frosty tone. She gave Weiss a small grin, though her eyes looked a little sad. “And now I bet you’re wondering what makes me think I get it better, right?” she guessed. Weiss’ frown deepened, before she nodded.

“I was first forced to take a life in a similar situation to you,” Teal began. “My first field mission was supposed to be sweeping for grimm, the standard sort of thing. Instead, we got caught up in a raid on a bandit camp, operating out of a cave system. You might be able to imagine how brutal that sort of fighting can get.” 

Weiss swallowed, looking down into her cup. “I can,” she confirmed.

“Yeah.” Teal took a moment to take another sip of her drink. “There aren’t any magic words that will make you feel better about this. It’s gonna take time and reflection. Just, y’know, remember; it was him or you. Maybe you could have done something different, but that’s hindsight talking. Don’t let yourself get hung up on ‘what ifs’,” she cautioned. “Learn from what happened, sure, but don’t linger on it.

“You’re not alone in this. A lot of people have gone through what you are now, and a lot more people are there to help you. There are a lot of people who are still alive and free because of what you all did . It sucks what you had to do, but…” Teal shrugged, before giving Weiss an encouraging smile. “I’m sure the people of Imola are grateful for what you did.”

Weiss hummed softly, thinking on Teal’s words for a long moment. “You’re right,” she eventually said, lifting her eyes to meet Teal’s again. “If I let myself get stuck on every mistake and bad thing that happened to me, I’d have never left the manor.” She shivered slightly.

“You gotta keep moving forwards,” Teal agreed. “I know it sucks, but… At least you care about taking a life, y’know? You feeling like this means you’re not a bad person for it.” Weiss nodded again. “Is there anything I, or the faculty at large, can do to help you right now?”

“Not right now, but thank you for the offer. And… Thank you, for talking to me about this,” Weiss said, gratefully.

“You’ll always be welcome.”

Between VLKE, APAL, and the other members of ISSN subjecting her to several rounds of concerned check-ins and reassurances, Weiss was almost grateful when Monday rolled around, heralding a return to classes. It was a welcome return to normality, or at least something that was becoming Weiss’ new normal. Living in dorms and attending classes with other students was still something relatively novel to Weiss, but she was adjusting faster than she’d expected.

The first class of the day was with Professor Evans, going over more of the particulars of the region’s history. Today’s lesson concerned the formation of Argoz’s government, including the most prominent families of the Maggior Consiglio. Weiss found herself glancing at Fiore throughout the lesson, Fiore trying her best not to look too smug when her family came up.

After that, it was time for the first class of a much-anticipated class by a good number of Providence’s student hunters; Advanced Aura Techniques. The name was not wholly accurate; whilst it did indeed focus on aura usage, it was also the class for semblance training and development.

Thanks to how many students were looking forward to this class in particular, the room was a little rowdier than usual. The location for this class was one of Providence’s lecture halls, a set of tiered seating overlooking a wide stage, on which a few training dummies were waiting.

For her part, Weiss was sitting between Fiore and Pyrrha, trying not to be too distracted by the extremely pretty women on either side of her. She was not having much success, keeping her eyes locked on her notebook in front of her as she scribbled down some notes from the last class.

“Settle down, all of you, and get your minds… On… Track.” All eyes turned to the door to the room as they swung open, a man striding into the room. He was perhaps in his early-thirties, slightly above average in height, with fair skin and long black hair fading to brown at the tips, tied back in a low ponytail. He wore a pair of slim black trousers with some geometric patterns in grey along with matching dress boots.

A charcoal grey waistcoat with similar patterns went over a beige dress shirt, the top button left undone, a yellow necktie worn slightly loose. A dark brown double-breasted coat with black and silver accents went over both, the lower half split into four tails, whilst white gloves covered his hands. His amber eyes scanned the room as he reached the front of the room, and he cleared his throat. 

“My name is Doctor Charcoal Mulholland, but please call me ‘Doctor Char’.” His voice was low and gravelly, and he spoke with a slow, methodical cadance, every word clearly enunciated, though leaving the impression that each of them was only chosen at the last possible instant. 

“I have tried to go by ‘Doctor Mulholland’ but some of you cannot spell that and every… Fucking time I see it spelt with four ‘l’s or two, I feel my spectral thread unravel.” The silence in the room after that statement was deafening, students exchanging uncertain glances with one another.

This… Is our teacher? Weiss wondered, frowning in faint alarm. Dimly, she recalled she had another class with this teacher, though she’d missed the first one thanks to the week with the coast guard. She swallowed, putting how her part in that deployment ended out of her mind again.

“Now, as I hope you’ve all surmised, I will be your Advanced Aura Techniques teacher. Some of you have already become… Acquainted with me as your mathematics teacher as well, and three of you have outstanding assignments due.” He gave pointed looks at those students, each wilting under his intense stare.

“Here we will discuss the art that is the science of aura usage, beyond the blunt application anyone here should have mastered. It is such a sadness that so many of our peers stop at just using it to protect their bodies.” There was a tinge of mournfulness to his tone, his expression falling before he seemed to rally.

“There is so much more potential in your souls. Here, let me show you.” He turned to one of the training dummies set up in the room, a good distance away from him. He shook out his arms, focussing intently on the dummy before standing slightly side-on to it, his left arm behind his back, the right held at his side. Then, he swept his right arm up above his head.

The air in front of him rippled, bending like the wake of a passing boat. The ripple continued until it reached the dummy, which reeled backwards as if struck. Judging by the sharp ‘crack’ as it moved, it had indeed been hit forcefully by something. “That had nothing to do with semblance,” Mulholland said, straightening his jacket as he turned to his shocked, murmuring audience.

“You, Wukong,” he said, singling out Sun, who started at being addressed. “Come here and try it,” he instructed.

“Me? Uh, okay?” Sun replied, hesitantly walking to the front of the class and then up next to Doctor Char. He then looked at the dummy, well out of arm’s reach. “So… How do I..?” He gestured vaguely towards the target.

“Alright, listen here champ… That’s short for ‘champion’ by the way—I don’t want you aiming at the dummy,” he began, standing next to Sun, gesturing at the dummy as he spoke. “You don’t punch like you’re trying to punch the dummy, that’s absurd, you can’t reach it. Imagine… Imagine inside your fist is a rock, and between you and the dummy is a beautiful lake. 

“Now, take that rock, and throw it across the lake like you’re skipping it across the surface. The lake is there, but you can’t see it. But you need to see it. You need to see it so you can act upon it,” he explained. Whilst most of the class looked increasingly bewildered, Sun had a thoughtful look on his face, nodding as he listened to the explanation.

“See the lake…” Sun muttered. “Alright, there’s a rock in my fist, and there’s a lake,” he continued to mumble to himself, trying to get into the right frame of mind. Then he took his stance, fists loosely balled and raised. He slowly extended his right arm, rotating his shoulders into a slow-motion punch, retracting the arm again. 

He did this twice more, feeling out the motion, before finally releasing a full power punch, pooling aura in his fist and imagining the lake as he did so. The effect was much less pronounced than Mulholland’s demonstration, a barely-visible ripple like a heat haze forming just in front of Sun. But the dummy rocked from a light impact, like a gentle shove against one shoulder.

“Hey, I did it!” he cheered, pumping his arms into the air triumphantly.

“Of course you did; I had a feeling you’d get it,” Mulholland said, nodding sagely. “And my feelings are rarely wrong. Nikos, let’s see you try it now,” he said, looking at Pyrrha.

“Okay,” Pyrrha said with a nod, stepping up as Sun returned to the seats, still basking in his success. As before, Mulholland stood beside Pyrrha as she focussed on the target.

“Let’s see… The lake metaphor doesn’t fit you, your soul’s too close to the ocean,” he mused, causing Pyrrha to pause, confused. “Let’s stay inland. How about slapstick? You don’t want to actually hit yourself or a fellow performer with whatever prop you’re using for the gag. But everyone still reacts like they did get hit. In this case, the dummy’s the other performer, and your fist is the slapstick.”

“... Alright, I’ll give it a try,” Pyrrha said, refocusing on the training dummy. She drew her fist back, and Char chose that moment to lean in to whisper.

“The dummy’s made of solid wood and foam padding, so your Polarity won’t work on it,” he informed her. Her eyes widened, head snapping to look down at him as she released her fist, to no effect on the dummy. “Try not to get distracted,” he added, stepping away again. As Pyrrha recovered from her surprise, he turned back to the seated students, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Lie,” he eventually decided, looking at Ren. “You’ve got something about you that tells me you’re good at this. Would you show us how it’s done?” he asked, gesturing to the dummy. Ren nodded sagely before standing and making his way to the stage, Pyrrha returning to her seat.

“You’ll get it,” Fiore whispered to Pyrrha in Argosi. She had to lean across Weiss to do so, to the smaller woman’s consternation. “I’m pretty terrible at this as well.”

“I’m just not used to being bad at something,” Pyrrha groused, her pride a little stung.

“Woo, go Ren!” Nora cheered as Ren measured up the dummy in front of him.

“This one’s been softened up a little.” Mulholland gestured to the dummy that he and Sun had successfully struck. “Wanna see if you can send it to the other side?”

“Alright,” Ren said simply. Without any further ado, his arm snapped forward. Where Mulholland (and Sun to a lesser degree) had created ripples, Ren’s strike instead created a white speartip through the air. On impact with the dummy, it punched a hole clean through the middle of it, the same diameter as Ren’s clenched fist.

The cheering from VLKE’s part of the seats got louder at the display, whilst the other students’ reactions varied from stunned silence to cheers of their own. “Magnificent, maestro!” Char said, nodding in satisfaction. “But there’s always more to learn. Let’s keep this going, there’re more of you to get to… Oakley, you next.”

Chapter Text

Providence’s faculty were far from the only ones worrying about Weiss after the rather visceral end to her deployment with the coast guard. Her fellow students had been keeping an eye on her as well, checking in occasionally to make sure she was doing alright. To that end, Nora had hatched onto an idea; a nice lunch in the city with Teams ISSN, VLKE, and APAL!

Given the idea was to try and cheer Weiss up, they’d picked the same restaurant as the last time with Team VLKE. At Weiss’ insistence, they’d called ahead to make sure they were okay to one; bring such a large group, and two; put enough tables together to accommodate them all (and three, courtesy of Fiore; if they had sufficient cushions for Atala to lie on). 

Following on the ‘make Weiss feel better’ train, Fiore had ‘suggested’ that the group not wear their hunter outfits to avoid as many reminders of the incident with the pirates as possible. So, instead, they were all dressed in casual clothes. Of course, ‘casual’ had a slightly different meaning for some members of the group.

Fiore, for instance, was clad in a white sundress decorated with golden threads in elaborate patterns, forming the Aglianco crest on her chest. A matching sun hat went on her head, along with a pair of her habitual sunglasses. Weiss, meanwhile, had a grey-blue knee-length dress, a white sash around her waist. She also had a sun hat, and like with their previous outing, she was clutching a bottle of water like her life depended on it.

The rest of the group, however, kept much closer to the more common understanding of ‘casual’; loose shirts, shorts or skirts and the like. Pyrrha’s outfit was as colourful as ever, whilst the heat had forced Pandora and Atala to abandon their habitual long coats. Even Sun had taken to wearing a blue bucket hat to help stay cool.

Weiss was trying not to glance too often at Pandora, but that was proving difficult thanks to what it was that Pandora was doing. Francesca, apparently dozing away, was being carried piggyback by her, arms wrapped around Pandora whilst Pandora supported her legs. Pandora was doing her level best to look unbothered, but Weiss was able to see a slight blush on her cheeks, one that deepened as Francesca muttered sleepily, burying her face in Pandora’s hair.

Finally, the group arrived at the restaurant, and Timisu wandered out to meet them with a broad smile. “Hello, Mister Timisu,” Weiss greeted him, smiling brightly before she, inevitably, was pulled into a hug.

“Miss Weiss!” he said happily, releasing her before pulling each member of her team into a hug one after the other, greeting them in turn. The pattern continued with Team APAL (though with a little extra difficulty between Pandora still carrying Francesca and Atala’s distinct body shape). Introductions handled, he led them all over to the tables prepared for them, where there was indeed a set of cushions arranged for Atala. Team VLKE was already present and waiting for them, Nora waving excitedly.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for ages!” she complained.

“It was your idea to get here early,” Ren said flatly.

“Yeah, I wanted to get somewhere before Weiss for once!” Nora replied, as if her statement made perfect sense. “You!” Nora then exclaimed once everyone was settled, pointing at Fiore, who blinked in surprise. “I’ve seen your face on some magazines!”

“... I’m not surprised?” Fiore responded, somewhat confused. Then, her expression settled into a polite smile. “We haven’t been formally introduced. Fiore Aidani Aglianco,” she said, holding a hand out to Nora. Nora took it, shaking it firmly.

“I’m Nora!” Nora replied. “Waaaait, I’ve heard that surname before… And not just at Providence initiation…”

“The Agliancos are a really rich Argosi family that helps bankroll half the city,” Pandora supplied, attempting with only partial success to prop Francesca up in her chair. Fiore gave Pandora a faintly exasperated look, before turning back to Nora.

“Pandora is… Well, I would have phrased it differently, but broadly that is correct,” she confirmed. “Finishing the introductions, then, Pandora Oakley, Francesca Lucci, and Atala Anthra,” Fiore continued, gesturing to each member of her team in turn.

“That’s Ren, that’s Emerald, and that’s Neon,” Nora said, returning the favour. “So how many of you guys are from Argoz?”

“Myself and Francesca, and Pyrrha of course,” Fiore said, smiling across the table at Pyrrha, getting one in return. Conversation was briefly interrupted as a waiter arrived to take their orders (including a strong coffee for Francesca) before it continued. “So, what made you four pick Providence? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“Well, three of us are orphans from Mistral,” Emerald answered casually. “We’ve stuck together for years, and we all wanted to enroll at one of the academies. We didn’t want to pay for boat tickets if we didn’t have to, but at the same time we didn’t want to go to Haven. So, Providence was the best option.”

“For me,” Neon chimed in, “I didn’t want to go to Atlas, and Argoz looked really pretty in all the pictures. I figured maybe the faculty’d be less stuck-up at a newer academy as well. And I was right! No uniforms, even though the headmaster’s ex-military!” Neon exclaimed triumphantly.

“It is pretty nice, can’t imagine wearing a blazer like they do at Vale in a place as hot as this,” Sun agreed.

“Yeah, how the hell does Keaton do it?” Emerald asked. “I’d be a puddle if I wore a suit in this.”

“Maybe he has ice dust under his clothes,” Weiss suggested. “If he stored it between the layers then it wouldn’t have potential frostbite issues…” she mused, looking down at the table in thought. As the group got to talking, largely regarding their classes, their drinks soon arrived.

“Hey, priestess, your coffee’s here,” Pandora said to Francesca, nudging her. Francesca made a small noise, shifting in her chair and sitting more-or-less upright again.

“Coffee…” she murmured, picking up the cup and taking a big sip, letting out a satisfied sigh afterwards.

“Wait, you’re a priestess?” Nora asked with a gasp.

“Mhm,” Francesca confirmed with a nod, still half-asleep. “Member of the Asteric Priesthood, to be exact.”

“Woah… Does that mean you can bless things?” Before Francesca could answer, Nora pulled out Magnhild—thankfully still in its collapsed form—and set it on the table with a thunk. Francesca stared at it for a moment, before pulling it towards herself. She then reached over and grabbed Neon’s glass of water. 

Waving her hand over it, she mumbled a prayer before dipping her fingers in the water and splashing some over Magnhild, muttering another prayer before handing both back to their respective owners. “There, it’s blessed now,” Francesca said, stifling another yawn. As Nora looked at Magnhild with wide, sparkling eyes, Neon eyed at her glass of water warily.

“So… Can I drink this now, or is that sacrilege?” she asked, glancing at Francesca.

“Sure, it's good for digestion…” Francesca replied, slumping forwards and resting her head on her arms.

“Why do you have that?” Weiss asked bluntly, looking at Nora and Magnhild.

“You never know when I might need it!” Nora replied, grinning back at her. Weiss blinked owlishly at her, opening her mouth to reply before closing it again. Then she sighed.

“I can’t really argue with that…” she relented, instead occupying herself by sipping at her drink. Idle chatter resumed for a short while, during which Francesca finished her coffee, perking up a little by the end of it. As Fiore and Nora got to animatedly talking about explosive projectiles, a growing commotion across the plaza caught Emerald’s attention.

“Hey, something’s going on over there,” she observed, nodding towards the crowd that was gathering at the mouth of the main road. As the others at the table all looked after, something bobbing over the heads of the crowd came into view, suspended on poles. It took a moment to process what they were seeing, but when they did…

“Is that a grimm?” Atala asked, her ears perking up. “It looks like an imp corpse.”

“Why are they bringing it through the city?” Ren asked, frowning. The crowd began to part, finally revealing the object of their attention. It appeared to be a small, informal procession of sorts. Eight uniformed individuals walked in loose double-file, each wearing blue and gold uniforms. They all wore an amount of armour; gauntlets, sabatons, greaves, and vambraces covered the extremities, whilst vitals were protected by a breastplate, gorget, and helmet.

Their weapons were an eclectic mix similar to those Teams ISSN and APAL had seen used by the Imola militia, though of a higher quality. The poles suspending the dead grimm were, in fact, pikes driven into its corpse with crossguards a short distance from the tip. Intricate mechanisms closer to the wielder suggested the pikes were mechashift weapons, likely with a firearm mode. 

Six of the uniformed fighters bore these pikes, with longswords slung at their hips. The other two instead bore mechashifting axes, along with collapsed shields worn on their backs. Though all eight of them bore the obvious signs of returning from a difficult hunt, the axe-wielders were in the worst state, splattered with mud and the telltale black of grimm ichor.

They were all overshadowed, however, by the figure leading the group. She was a tall woman, pushing into her late thirties, clad in a full suit of platemail. The plates, where not splattered with the evidence of battle, were a pale gold, almost white in colour, with a deeper gold for the trim and highlights. A number of shallow channels ran across the surface of the plates, converging on curious slots on the vambraces, greaves, and breastplate.

Beyond these channels, the armour was richly decorated, with fluting, ribbing, and embossing adding texture and shape to the plates. The most extravagant sculpting of the armour was featured on the figure’s right pauldron, intricately carved to resemble a thorned rose, the dyed-red petals adding a splash of rich colour to the harness. A similar shade was visible between the stiff plates, fabric covering the gaps in the joints, with a matching cape affixed to her shoulders.

Her helm, an elaborate armet with crest and wedge-shaped visor, was carried under her arm, leaving her head exposed. Her long, red hair was worn in a thick braid trailing down her back, and her skin was dark. At her hip was a decorated scabbard containing a longsword, its hilt no less ornate than her armour, whilst a shield was slung across her back in a similar style to the fighters she was leading.

“Oh, it’s the Order of the Lucent Moon!” Francesca said, perking up in her chair and smiling broadly.

“The who?” Ilia asked, glancing from the grimm to the armoured figure and then to Francesca.

“The militant arm of the Stellata dell'Occhio Settentrionale del Cielo,” Francesca answered. At the slightly bemused expressions on Team VLKE’s faces, Sun helpfully raised a hand and pointed.

“The big temple over there,” he said, his finger pointing in the direction of the stellata, the dome visible over the buildings surrounding the plaza. Meanwhile, Francesca waved at the armoured figure in the lead as she turned towards their table. Coming to a halt, she turned to say something to the other armed figures, before starting to make her way over, the rest of the procession continuing on their way.

As she approached the table, Francesca stood from her chair, giving a polite curtsey as she arrived. “Paladin,” she greeted her, bowing her head.

“Diviner,” the armoured woman replied, nodding respectfully. Her voice was slightly hoarse, like she’d been doing an awful lot of shouting recently. Now that she was closer, Ilia was able to make out whole sections of writing etched into her armour. Though she couldn’t quite read them, her Argosi had improved enough that she could recognise that they were prayers. The woman cast her gaze across the rest of the table, green eyes flicking around quickly.

“Everyone,” Francesca continued, slipping back to Valean, “meet Signora Rosalind, Paladin of the Order of the Lucent Moon. These are my classmates,” she said by way of introduction.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” the paladin said. “Please, just call me Chiara. ‘Signora’ is a local honorific.” Chiara then looked at Fiore before bowing. “My lady,” she said in Argosi. Fiore stood briefly, acknowledging the bow with a nod before sitting again.

“Madam paladin,” Fiore greeted her in return. With the introductions out of the way, Chiara relaxed, armour plates clinking together as she shifted her weight to one leg, her pose becoming more casual.

“So, you’re the ones Francesca is watching over at Providence?” she asked, a grin breaking across her face.

“That we are,” Fiore answered, giving Francesca a grin as she did so. “And she’s done a wonderful job so far.”

“Well, I did have a very good teacher,” Francesca deflected, blushing faintly at the praise.

“Ha!” Chiara barked out a laugh. “I’m not your instructor anymore, you don’t need to lay on the compliments. But I am glad to hear you’re doing well. How are your classes? Learning a lot from the faithless heathens?” The levity in her tone indicated she was joking about the ‘heathens’ bit. At least, Ilia hoped she was joking.

“Mhm! And I’m teaching them a bit about Asterism as well,” Francesca replied.

“Not all of us are heathens,” Fiore pointed out, playing up the mock-offense as she folded her arms.

“Of course, of course,” Chiara granted. “After all, your family is quite well-favoured by Osonach.” The laugh shared by Chiara, Fiore, and Francesca left Ilia convinced there was a lot of context she was missing in this conversation.

“So, are you just back from a hunt?” Pyrrha asked, looking over to where the rest of the fighters were departing the plaza.

“Correct. A village nearby needed assistance with a swarm of grimm. Not the cleanest sweep we’ve ever had, but no injuries our aura couldn’t handle in the field, thank the stars. One of them left a corpse behind, so we’re taking it to the stellata for purification.” Chiara followed Pyrrha’s gaze. “Speaking of which, I should catch up to them. If they show up short one paladin, some of the priests might have a fit.”

“Of course! Tell everyone I said ‘hello’,” Francesca said, beaming brightly. Chiara nodded, bidding her farewells to everyone else present before departing. Once she was gone, everyone turned to look at Francesca.

“So… Paladin?” Neon asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“Mhm!” Francesca hummed in affirmation. “The militant orders have existed more-or-less as long as Asterism itself has. As well as providing security for temples and the faithful—and admittedly a bit of conquest—they operate as grimm slayers. The paladins especially.”

“So they’re like hunters?” Sun asked.

“Similar, but not quite. Aura and semblance-wielding slayers of grimm, yes, but not mercenaries like actual hunters are,” Francesca answered. Sun opened his mouth to counter that, before blinking and closing his mouth.

“... I guess hunters are mercenaries. Huh…” he mused. “Anyway, so they don’t do contracts like hunters do?”

“Nope! ‘course, there are a lot more hunters than paladins, so we’re not really putting them out of work.” Francesca frowned slightly. “Doesn’t stop some people from acting like we’re rivals, though.”

“Wait, ‘we’? Aren’t you at a hunter academy though?” Emerald asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Yep! I mean, I’m probably going to end up with the Order once I graduate,” Francesca said. “I’m at Providence for… A couple of reasons. The big one for me, at least, is learning from as many people as I can. The militant orders produce some great fighters, but there’s value in learning how hunter academies do it as well. The other reasons are… Kinda political. Fiore, do you mind..?” she asked, looking pleadingly at Fiore.

“Of course,” Fiore assured her, slipping smoothly into the conversation. “The Order, and more broadly the institution of Asterism, are making a number of statements by enrolling a member of the priesthood and a future paladin at Providence. For one, it’s a vote of confidence in the future of the new academy, as well as a show of solidarity between Argosi institutions. 

“One of the talking points brought up to oppose the founding of Providence was that it would ‘erode’ Argosi culture,” she continued. “By having Francesca train at Providence, the faith is throwing the support of one of Argoz’ oldest and most important cultural establishments behind the academy. It’s a statement that Providence is Argosi, and not foreign erasure of Argoz.

“Finally, it’s a signal that the militant orders are still relevant. The hunter and academy system that emerged after the Great War more-or-less absorbed all the other types of ‘grimm slayer’, such as the old Valean knight-errants. The orders survived because they were already a well-established organisation, but a lot of people view them as a relic. Francesca training at Providence and then returning to the Order says ‘no, we are not a stagnant left-over. We are still learning and evolving.’”

“That’s… A lot of complication behind just joining an academy,” Ilia said, frowning. 

“I’m just trying to focus on my studies,” Francesca replied with a shrug. “Other people can worry about the political stuff for now.”

“I can sympathise,” Weiss interjected. “Whether we like it or not, we’re both in the middle of politics.”

Most of us at this table are, Ilia mused silently, glancing around them all. There was her own old entanglements, and Pyrrha’s celebrity status. Weiss and Fiore were obvious, their families deeply embedded in the politics of their nations. Francesca was in the middle of a nexus of her own, and as for the rest of them…

Just picking Providence over another academy is a political choice. The whole of Team VLKE, as well as Atala, had chosen Providence because of discontent with their home nations. Especially for the Mistrali students, such a choice was almost seditious, attending a junior, upstart academy in an imperial holding over the older, more established Haven Academy.

Would it be too much to ask for this bit of politics to not explode?